Broken Seal
by nice-day
Summary: After his demise at the hands of Frieza, Krillin is accepted into heaven by the authorities. However, the afterlife soon proves to be an anticlimax for the veteran fighter.
1. The Tedium of Elysium

Okay! Everything after chapter 11 is brand new stuff. Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters therein.  
  
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Krillin's point like pupils peered out across the battlefield from beneath his furrowed brow. A glistening bead of sweat formed on his left temple as he beheld his formidable adversaries. Two demonic creatures, coated in pink, scaly skin, their heads crowned by single, lustrous black horns, were poised before him. Both stared deep into his unyielding eyes as they attempted to anticipate the small Earth man's next move.  
  
A cool gust of wind washed across the tense scene, causing Krillin to shiver, but not for a moment was his glare broken. The breeze had unsettled one of the creatures, its enormous frame flinching as the current caught it unawares. The second creature glanced across nervously at his companion, sensing his anxiety.  
  
Krillin's face maintained its stony expression, but within, the fighter's confidence was growing. He could see the fear in the fiery red eyes of his enemies, and soon it would be time to end the battle. Inhaling deeply, he prepared to play his trump card. The eyes of both grotesque beasts widened as they sensed the change within the warrior, and they realised that their fate was at hand. Slowly, a wicked smirk began to crawl across Krillin's face as the time approached for him to deal the final blow. In an instant, he thrust his hands high above his head released his fury with a mighty battle cry,  
  
"Royal flush!" he proclaimed, slapping his cards down face up on the green felt surface of the table. A smug grin now graced Krillin's visage.  
  
"Damn it!" snarled the creature to his right, slamming down his losing hand in frustration. Krillin's cards leapt a couple of inches of the table as if startled by the creature's wrath. The second beast simply sighed. "You win again." it said, wearily.  
  
Krillin rose from his seat and stretched his arms out above his head, yawning as he did. He didn't bother to claim the spoils of war, a six-inch high pile of chips in the middle of the table.  
  
"You guys should work on your poker faces." He chuckled, recovering from the yawn. "Anyways, I think its time I was heading on home."  
  
"Aww, c'mon Krillin." Whined the monster on the right, his protest ringing out across the beautiful, endless meadow, the setting of the contest, "I'm just getting warmed up. One more game, huh?"  
  
"Heh heh, sorry guys." Krillin replied, rubbing the back of his head and itching to leave, "I've gotta get home to feed the dog. Besides, I'm beat. What is that now, four hundred games?"  
  
"Na-a-ah!" replied the creature, shaking his head vigorously, "Three hundred fifty, tops."  
  
"Oh, do be quiet Kroth." The second creature scolded, "Honestly. You're such a sore loser." He turned to Krillin and smiled, exposing two flawless rows of razor sharp fangs. "We'll see you around Krillin." He said cheerfully.  
  
"See you guys." Krillin smiled. He turned away from the card table, and looked out across the idyllic meadow. Gently rolling hills stretched off to an unattainable horizon. Long blades of lush blue grass swayed to the music of the eternal summer breeze, sheltered by an untainted pink sky. The setting was perfect. everything here was perfect.  
  
Krillin drew upon some of his Ki, and was instantly engulfed in blaze of white hot energy. With a little effort, he launched himself skyward, the resulting blast of air throwing the contents of the card table up on to the bickering demons. Without a backward glance, Krillin left the pair, drawing out trail of superheated air as he embarked on his journey home.  
  
The warrior's energy divided the otherwise clear skies as he arced across the heavens. As he did, he cast his gaze downwards the utopian world below. There Krillin saw children frolicking with long lost pets, couples old and young dancing to the love songs of their time, audible only to themselves, and families spanning numerous generations chattering the talking points of centuries.  
  
It had been several months since the nefarious Frieza had cruelly robbed Krillin of his mortal existence. As with his previous journey to the afterlife, he had been readily accepted into the bosom of eternal bliss. Having essentially lead two lives of courage and sacrifice, the authorities here were only too happy to reward the ill fated fighter. Initially, Krillin had refused to leave the vicinity of the checkpoint. For days he had lingered at the doors of King Yemma's office like a fretting dog, fearing that his friends Goku, Picollo and Gohan may not be far behind him. His peers did not arrive however, and ominously neither did Frieza.  
  
And so, with a reluctant resignation, Krillin was now attempting to enjoy the perks of heaven's endless rapture. Indeed, the deceased fighter liked this perfect world well enough, but as he cruised above the sprawling fields of elysium, only a single thought occurred to him; Man, I'm bored. For all that this place held pleasures to stimulate the mind and enrich the soul, these things were little more than empty distractions to Krillin.  
  
He recalled the final days of his existence on the mortal plane. In that brief time, he had lived from moment to moment fearing constantly for his own safety, and that of his comrades. Having eaten little, and slept even less, he had been running purely on adrenaline. His heart had pounded violently within his chest as a wild animal attempting to escape a snare. There were times when he had thought it might. This feeling was indescribable. No yesterday. No tomorrow. Only now.  
  
Things were different here, however. Here there were infinite yesterdays, and endless tomorrows. There was no fear and no suffering, but equally there were no causes to fight and no evil to thwart. Krillin's existence here was meaningless, and it was a fact that had worn on his mind since his arrival.  
  
Krillin's route took him over a small wood. The sparse, green blanket stretched less than quarter of a mile, and lay draped across the foot of a gently sloping hill. The grass that grew from the landform swayed gently from side to side producing the illusion that the hill was breathing, a snoozing giant who's brow was protected from the light of the sunless sky by a small wooden cottage. This was Krillin's beautiful home in this perfect realm.  
  
Krillin slowed, and descended gently to the ground. The dry blades of grass hissed and rustled at his feet as they sank into the foliage. Now grounded, he strode the front door of his home, pushing the stalks of grass aside as they tapped and prodded at his legs as if vying for his attention. The building before him was short in stature, much like its inhabitant, with a slated roof that kissed the swooning grass at its edges. Krillin placed his hand against the wooden door and pushed it aside. Entering, he was greeted by the rich smell of dried pine. Krillin looked about. The cottage had only a single room, equipped with all the comforts the warrior needed. Bed, TV, wardrobe and kitchen area all stood against the cottages four walls, with a table and chair sited at the centre. But Krillin was not inspecting for furniture.  
  
"Bobo!" he called, "Bobo!" he repeated the call, this time following it with several short, sharp whistles which reverberated through the cottage, and out over the slopes of the rolling hill. This second address was greeted with raucous barking from beyond the surrounding walls. Krillin turned just in time to see a great slobbering mass of brown and white fur bounding up the hill towards him. Getting down on one knee and spreading his arms, Krillin prepared to receive the incoming canine. "C'mon boy!" he shouted.  
  
In an instant the animal, a ninety-pound Saint Bernard, burst through the door and leapt upon its waiting master. The two tumbled backwards, sending the once neatly arranged furniture flying into the back of the cottage. Krillin laughed and coughed simultaneously as the beast ran its coarse, saliva sodden tongue across his face repeatedly, nearly suffocating him in the process.  
  
"Okay! Okay! Down boy, down!" he scolded, but with very little venom.  
  
With some gentle shoving, Krillin eventually freed himself from Bobo's enthusiastic embrace and stood upright. Dusting the dog hair from his bright red outfit, he turned towards the kitchen area of his home.  
  
" I suppose we had better get you fed." He said, to which the slathering Bobo barked his approval. Krillin then turned his attention to the overturned table, and to the chair that now stood on his bed. "But first, I think we should tidy up."  
  
With the task of straightening out the furniture completed, Krillin made his way to the kitchen to feed Bobo. The kitchen was composed of a short work-surface with several cupboards hanging from the walls above, and a small refrigerator was nestled beneath. The whole area was lit up by a square window, which was neatly adorned with red checked curtains. Krillin reached up, opened one of the cupboards, and extracted a can from amid the jumbled assortment of foods and condiments. He looked down at the label.  
  
"How do you feel about Chicken, boy?" Krillin queried, glancing down at his childhood, and now afterlife companion. Bobo tilted his head and emitted grumbling whine. "Hmmm, not interested huh? Well, lets see what we can do." Krillin looked down at the tin in his hand once more. Then, clearing his mind, he began to will the tin to change. At first, nothing happened. But slowly, as Krillin's intensified his will, the paper label began to alter. The crimson background shifted at an ever-increasing rate through the shades. First pink, then through various hews of purple before finally coming to rest at a rich royal blue. Also, the foreground design changed. The cartoon chicken that had graced the container was now replaced by an equally comical cow.  
  
"There, now. How's about beef then, fella?" Krillin asked Bobo, who had been sitting patiently at his side. The dog emitted a contented bark, and swept the ground his great mop of a tail. His master smiled and then took a can opener from a drawer at his waste.  
  
The ability to alter his surroundings through will power was a technique Krillin had picked up from the handbook for newly deceased souls he'd been given at the check in station. Having been unable to keep the copy he had been given on his first visit, he had spent the first couple of weeks relearning all the perks and peculiarities of the other side.  
  
With Bobo now feeding happily, and noisily, from a large red bowl on the floor, Krillin turned his attention to his own sustenance. Bending down, he opened the door the refrigerator and began to rummage through the contents. Stretching his arm to the back of the frosty cabinet, he grasped an ice cool bottle of milk. He extracted it and placed it on the counter above. Krillin then set about the task of picking out his meal.  
  
As he did he noticed an odd sound. A gentle rumbling, it was barely audible above the busy humming of the fridge and the frantic scraping of Bobo's plastic bowl on the pine floor. Ceasing his activities for a moment, Krillin listened carefully. He detected nothing. Dismissing it as his imagination, he returned to the task in hand. A moment later however, the sound emerged once more. This time it asserted itself above the ambient sounds, enough to attract the attention of both Krillin and Bobo. Bobo raised his head from his meal to better receive the mysterious noise. Krillin pulled his head from the refrigerator doorway and looked over his shoulder to the spooked dog.  
  
"What d'ya suppose that was, boy?" Krillin asked Bobo.  
  
The hound replied with an anxious whine. Standing up, Krillin looked out through the window. He glanced skywards scoured the heavens for the thick black clouds that might be indicative of thunder. However, he found only the same endless pink expanse he had seen every day - and night - he had spent in the afterlife. Krillin cocked an eyebrow, adopting a quizzical expression. Within a second of this, the thunderous rumbling arose once more. This time, the intensity was far greater, causing the ground to shake violently beneath the cottage. The rumbling subsided, but there was only a short respite before the sound once more erupted from beyond the walls. The entire edifice convulsed and groaned, crying out in pain as its infrastructure was warped and twisted by the vibrations. Containers were spewed from the cupboards by the fierce cramping of the cottage walls, and furniture was toppled as the floor heaved beneath it.  
  
Krillin yelped as he was thrown onto his back by the quivering ground. Once more, the sound died away and the walls and supports creaked a sigh of relief as their ordeal came to an end. Leaping to his feet, Krillin made a dash for the door. Deftly he dodged broken jars and dented tins, and hurdled over the toppled furniture. He was determined to find the cause of the disturbance before it brought his home down around his ears. Grabbing the steel doorknob, Krillin flung the door aside and emerged into the open air.  
  
As Krillin thrust himself into the outside world, he instantly noticed a difference from before. The air was warm and tasted bitter from the dust disturbed by the commotion. The taste was familiar. it was the taste of battle.  
  
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To be continued. da-da-daaaa! 


	2. The Battle of Perfect Meadow

The atmosphere was charged with energy causing the startled fighter's skin to tingle. The combination of familiar stimuli was enough to trigger a response within Krillin, one that had not surfaced since those final, fateful days on Namek. The sharp image of the surrounding scenery blurred into a haze of diffuse forms and ill-defined shapes, and the gentle shades of the surrounding landscape faded into indifferent monochrome as Krillin's mind let go of his physical senses. All that he could feel now was the power that surged through the air and through him. Carefully he scanned his surroundings. The warrior's consciousness probed and explored the heaving ocean of energy that was the surrounding world as it swirled and thrashed against the barriers of his mind. Suddenly his attention was grasped by two large concentrations of energy, rising over the background currents like towering swells.  
  
Krillin turned his head sharply and glanced over his shoulder. In an instant he had located the source of the disruption. With his mind now functioning in the physical world once more, the fighter threw his arms back and sprinted around the side of his home, the force of his pounding feet shredding grass beneath them. Arriving on the opposite side of the hill, Krillin looked out across the grassy plane that sprawled out before him. There, about five hundred meters from where he stood, two figures floated ominously before one another. The greenery below them rippled outwards in concentric circles like the surface of a pond broken by thrown stones, and a trail of pockmarks of various sizes blemished the otherwise flawless landscape, stretching off to the distant horizon. They seemed to map the course of a running battle that, unluckily, was coming to a head in Krillin's back yard.  
  
Reluctant to get much closer, Krillin remained at the crest of the hill and looked down upon the agitated pair. The first was a stout creature with a purple hide and a bulbous head. Krillin could make out little more detail as the fighter's form was broken-up by the shimmering of the warm air. One distinguishing feature however, was the creatures' garments. It was equipped with a brown and white breastplate, from which two brown shoulder pads protruded. This was a familiar costume. Krillin himself had such apparel hanging in his wardrobe. It was the uniform worn by the legions of Frieza.  
  
The second fighter was much taller. At first, Krillin had thought it to be some bizarre demon, as its body appeared to be shrouded in thick layer of fur. This seemed logical, as many such creatures inhabited this realm. However as the atmosphere danced and quivered in the heat the fighters were generating, it momentarily revealed details then snatched them away just as quickly. In reality the second combatant was dressed in an animal pelt, with a wild bramble of black hair crowning his head.  
  
Krillin was unfamiliar with the appearance of this fighter. However, as he peered down from his vantage point, something caught his eye. At first it seemed like little more than a trick of the light. A practical joke played by the boisterous atmosphere as it frolicked and cavorted in the heat. Then Krillin caught clear sight of it. A long, slender appendage curled away from the lower back of this fighter. It flicked uneasily from side to side, betraying the mood of its owner. This was the unmistakable calling card of a Saiyan warrior.  
  
A sickly warm breeze now ambled across the land, carrying on it the banter of the competitors. Krillin listened as the two exchanged profanities, their angry words drifting across the landscape like a distant roll of thunder. Though Krillin's mind was occupied primarily by anxiety at the presence of these two menacing figures, he couldn't help pondering what had brought them here. He realised that it wasn't his place to pass final judgement, but still, they didn't seem like the sort of characters that would be welcome on this plane.  
  
His train of thought was abruptly derailed however as the short purple fighter hurled a series of expletives at his Saiyan adversary that would have made even the surly prince Vegeta blush. Krillin winced,  
  
"Ooh, he's not gonna like that." He murmured to himself.  
  
This was an accurate assumption. The Saiyan warrior was infuriated by the verbal assault on his person and his race. Consumed by an uncontrollable, primeval rage, the fighter threw his head back and unleashed a terrifying cry. The horrid primal howl raced across the battlefield, a frightful harbinger of the carnage that would ensue. The horrifying lament sent a chill down Krillin's spine. For a moment he had to fight the urge to flee the scene.  
  
Things were about to turn ugly. The Saiyan's power level was spiking, and now dominated the restless tides of energy that permeated the surroundings. As he summoned upon his immense reservoir of power he was engulfed in a glaring luminescence. The stems of grass at his feet rippled violently, leaning away from the fighter like a panicking crowd attempting to evacuate the site of an imminent disaster.  
  
Krillin was losing sight of the fighters behind the throbbing veil of energy. He was still monitoring their power levels however, and had noticed that while the Saiyan was venting his fury with the aid of a spectacular light show, the opposing warrior's energy had been gradually climbing. It was becoming clear that this fighter's intention had been to draw the maximum performance from his adversary.  
  
Krillin didn't know whether to be more impressed with the purple creature's bravery or stupidity. If his own experiences were anything were anything to go by, it was not a good idea to provoke a Saiyan. Even the seemingly endless patience of the amicable Goku had its limits, and what lay beyond was a wrath that far outstripped that of even the most potent of the evils he had faced.  
  
This guy actually wants to fight that Saiyan, Krillin contemplated; He must be even more bored than I am. Whether or not this was true was beside the point. This skirmish was a direct threat to himself and his homestead, and Krillin's thoughts were turning to intervention.  
  
The heat was becoming intolerable as the combatants brought the full extent of their kis to the fore. Wave after wave of seething energy rolled across the meadow as the two prepared for battle. Krillin drew his left fore arm up across his face to protect himself from the hot torrent of dust and grass. Keeping his guard up Krillin stole a glance at the fighters from between tightly squinting eyelids. He was fairly sure that they were both nearing their maximum strength.  
  
Sure enough, the raging winds and oppressive heat abated, as did the blinding glare. Both the Saiyan and the alien had reached the zenith of their powers. As the air began to cool and the light faded, the two warriors were revealed. Seething auras of power surrounded both, and both were poised for combat.  
  
Krillin lowered his arm and gazed down upon the pair once more. The battlefield was now eerily calm. The atmosphere had cooled significantly and now felt soothingly chilly against his clammy skin. Seconds passed like hours as the combatants sized one another up, the oppressive heat giving way to an even more oppressive sense of anticipation.  
  
Without warning, the Saiyan let forth a second ear-piercing cry. With that he exploded into motion, kicking up a hale of dust and severed grass stems. Screaming wildly, he bore down upon his opponent, his huge grasping hands reaching impatiently towards the throat of their would-be victim.  
  
The alien fighter, unfazed by the fury of the approaching Saiyan, smiled slyly. His raging opponent was virtually upon him when, in single fluid motion, too rapid for any but the most perceptive warriors to detect, the fighter swivelled in the air. The Saiyan went barrelling past the alien, unable to quell his own momentum. As the alien recovered from the manoeuvre, he lashed out behind himself with his right foot, making momentary contact with the small of the Saiyan's back. A small ring of light burst from the point of impact, accompanied by the sickening thud of bruising flesh.  
  
The Saiyan cried out in pain as the attack found its target. He was now flying out of control, trailing a cloud of dust as he cruised across the plain. Unable to right himself, he took a nosedive into the unforgiving earth, flailing his limbs as he went and sending a burst of debris into the air. The sight impact was followed shortly after by a spherical shockwave that rippled outwards through the air and the ground.  
  
The vibration of the shockwave reverberated through Krillin's body as it rushed beneath the soles of his feet. The resonance shook his insides slightly, causing his stomach to turn. Overcoming the momentary feeling of nausea, Krillin resumed his analysis of the combatants. Having closely monitored the power levels of the two fighters, he had been able to quite accurately assess their capabilities. It seemed that the Saiyan had a slight advantage in the area of brute strength, though the gap between the two was markedly smaller than the dissimilarities in their size and demeanour suggested. However, it seemed that the alien edged out the Saiyan in both speed and cunning. At least, that was the way it seemed from what Krillin had seen so far.  
  
A few moments had passed since the Saiyan's impromptu visit to the ground. The fighter's body was still submerged beneath the foliage, leaving Krillin with the Saiyan's ki as the only means of location. But even this was becoming unreliable, as the Saiyan's energy signal was gradually dispersing as a breaker rolling onto shore. He watched as the dark cloud of debris that had hung over the battlefield like a restless spirit was slowly exorcised by the cool breeze. Though he felt little sympathy for this fighter who had played a part in the near demolition of his home, he couldn't help but feel disappointed that the confrontation had ended so abruptly. After all, this was the only action he had seen since arriving in this peaceful realm. But as Krillin began to ponder whether or to confront the alien fighter, a something caught his attention from amid the long grass.  
  
An unruly mob of pitch-black locks surfaced from amid the orderly ranks of greenery. Slowly it rose upward, trailed by a grimy face baring an expression of sheer rage. This was accompanied by a sudden surge in the Saiyan's Ki. With renewed vigour, the fighter's energy asserted itself above the background energy. Drawing its might from the tempestuous oceans of ambient power, it threatened to sweep away all before it.  
  
As the Saiyan's full body emerged from the tall grass, it was clear from his clenched fist and the twitching of his grotesque musculature that he had reached a plateau of anger that defied even his formidable vocalisation. Now upright, the enraged fighter slowly turned his head. The motion was slow and deliberate, like a predatory animal locating its prey whilst being sure not to startle it into flight.  
  
Krillin felt a sensation akin to the touch of cold fingers in the depths of his chest as the Saiyan behemoth's line of sight scanned across his position. Fortunately a thick red fog of fury had blinded him to everything save his opponent who now hung in the air behind him, sniggering mockingly.  
  
The Saiyan's thick black eye brows sank inwards towards the wrinkled bridge of his nose as he glared over his shoulder at the alien fighter, his eyes simmering in the sweltering heat of his anger. Bearing his yellowed fangs, the Saiyan emitted a rumbling snarl.  
  
Krillin had become totally engrossed in the confrontation. His ears were pricked up, listening for any words that might be batted between the fighters. It was then that he caught wind of the Saiyan's growl.  
  
"All right." Krillin muttered to himself, "Now its on."  
  
He clenched his fists in anticipation of what was to follow.  
  
With renewed ferocity, the Saiyan drove himself upwards and in a surge of energy that manifested in a short lived halo of light, he charged at his opponent once more. In that instant there was a deafening crack as the fighter's body shattered the fragile sound barrier, sending shards of noise skittering across the landscape. A trench was gouged through the once unforgiving ground as it surrendered unconditionally to the searing periphery of the Saiyan's ki.  
  
The alien fighter raised his fists in readiness to receive the Saiyan. It seemed that this time he had no intention of evading a toe-to-toe fight. Sure enough, the alien stood his ground as his opponent dispatched his assault.  
  
Reaching his adversary the Saiyan unleashed a hail of swipes and slashes, clawing relentlessly at the flesh of the alien with long talon-like fingernails. But as Krillin had suspected the alien was proving to be wily prey as he deftly evaded and redirected the imprecise strikes, frustrating the efforts of the Saiyan.  
  
But equally, as the alien sought to exploit the sloppy, undisciplined style of his opponent, it appeared that each cunning counter strike did little to cause ebb in the torrent of aggression. In fact, it seemed that each blow served only to further enflame the already blazing temper of the Saiyan, encouraging him to even more lofty heights of violence.  
  
Over and over, the fighters bombarded one another. So insanely quick were the manoeuvres that their limbs appeared as little more than slurs of light.  
  
Krillin was thoroughly engaged in the struggle between these two totally contrasting styles of combat; The alien, with his clinical style of evasive techniques and controlled aggression, and the ancient Saiyan, with no specific technique, employing only brute strength and a bestial ferocity. It appeared that the two were balancing each other off for the moment, but in the long run, it was anybody's guess which way this fight would go. However, Krillin knew where his money would be.  
  
The fight continued for a few minutes more, then Krillin noticed something. Tearing his gaze from the confrontation, he glanced down towards his own two fists. They were tightly clenched and held out before of him as if deployed in combat with some invisible adversary. Also, there was a sensation of warmth within the muscles in his arms that denoted recent use. Indeed, without realising, Krillin had spent the last few minutes jabbing and hooking at thin air. He had been so absorbed in the fight that still raged before him that he had begun to mimic the manoeuvres of the combatants. Taken aback by his behaviour, Krillin hastily opened his fists and stared down at his sweat-moistened palms.  
  
This was no time for Krillin to be disturbed by his own behaviour, however. Clenching his fists once more and gritting his teeth, he resolved to intervene in the conflict. But as he made ready to take to the air, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Looking to his left, Krillin caught sight of a small speck emerging over the horizon. As the object drew near, a new sound began to emerge above the din of battle. An urgent wailing heralded the approach of the unidentified object. It seemed that the day had not exhausted its supply of incidents, as the baritone chorus of battle cries was joined by the piercing strains of a police siren. 


	3. Police Presence

Krillin quickly surmised that the approaching object was a vehicle, but at that range its identity still eluded him. The sounds it made did not, however. Screaming an alert to its approach, the object weaved its way down the side of a distant hill like an insect scampering down a path from the mouth of its colony. Moving at great speed, it did not take long to emerge into full view. The vehicle was a small van with white, rounded bodywork that mimicked the carapace of beetle, and was equipped with two circular headlights that resembled segmented eyes. The insect-like appearance of the van was completed by the high-pitch buzz of the engine that became audible as it drew nearer.  
  
In spite of the wailing of the sirens, both of the feuding fighters remained oblivious to the van as it pulled up nearby, continuing to rain a storm of blows down upon one another. It came to a halt about twenty metres from the action. There it lingered, hovering wheel-less just above the ground. The buzz of the engine was no longer urgent as before. Instead the van purred as if it was deriving pleasure from the tickling of its underbelly by the swaying grass.  
  
Suddenly, the engine stopped dead, and the vehicle plopped down into the foliage. The wail of the sirens faltered, and sank through a range of pitches before finally dying out with an almost inaudible groan. The red dome-shaped light on top of the van continued to function however, spinning around within its translucent shell like a single eye scouring the land for potential sources of trouble.  
  
The darkened windows obscured the occupants from view, but this was only temporary as the door nearest to Krillin swung open and a huge beast began to emerge from within the darkened cab. So large was this demonic being that it seemed impossible that it could have fitted within the relatively small vehicle.  
  
Though similar in appearance to Krillin's poker buddies, much of its scale- coated flesh was hidden beneath a deep blue uniform. The huge garment was fastened with glistening silver buttons that winked in the daylight like stars suspended in the night sky. The creature's head was crowned by tall, rounded helmet. Similar in colour to rest of the uniform, it was adorned by a radiant, circular crest.  
  
Towering several feet above the van, the demonic officer rested his left elbow upon the vehicle's roof of the van and casually leaned against it. Raising its right hand, the creature nudged its hat back slightly, and beheld the two fighters who were still exchanging blows. Wearing an ice cool expression as it might an accessory to its uniform, it assessed the situation that was unfolding.  
  
Just as Krillin was coming to terms with the counterintuitive emergence of the officer from the comparatively small van, a second, identical creature reared up from the other side. Looking out over the meadow, it assumed a similar pose to its comrade. After a few seconds, the two began to approach the combatants with as much stealth as could be afforded to two such monstrous persons.  
  
"What the..?" Krillin muttered in utter bemusement at the dimensional paradox that had been presented him, "Ah, this whole thing's giving me a headache."  
  
Then, to Krillin's surprise, the creature nearest turned its head straight towards him, and frowning with blazing red eyes. The beast raised a taloned finger and pressed it against his lips, gesturing for Krillin to remain quiet. The fighter raised his eyebrows in astonishment.  
  
"He heard that!?" Krillin exclaimed, only to find himself on the receiving end of a fearful glare from the creature. The fighter grimaced as he realised his transgression. Grinning inanely, he mouthed an apology that the officer grudgingly accepted.  
  
Now several paces behind his comrade, the beast turned away and continued to approach quietly the dueling warriors.  
  
Krillin rubbed the back of his head. He could feel the sensation of warmth washing across his face as it flushed, his reddening cheeks giving away his feelings of embarrassment. I don't know what that guy's problem is; He thought to himself, seeking self-validation; It's not like they didn't make enough noise when they showed up.  
  
The two demons continued towards their targets, their gargantuan footfalls leaving depressions in the long grass. Remarkably, their quarry remained oblivious to their approach. The Saiyan and the alien continued to lash out at one another tirelessly, and it seemed that the two could remain locked in this duel for the duration without so much as a time out.  
  
As Krillin stared down, he noticed a stirring to his right. Glancing sideways, he saw Bobo. Having plucked up some courage he had, unbeknownst to Krillin, emerged from the relative safety of the cottage. He now stood several meters from his master, also mesmerised by the action below. Bobo raised and dropped his front paws anxiously, as if indecisive over whether or not he should intervene. The animal was clearly unsettled by the raucous goings on, and this in turn made Krillin even more anxious. He knew what Bobo's reaction would be if he became distressed.  
  
Krillin turned his head sharply as a particularly loud cry pierced the air. The meagre fortification of patience that contained the full extent of the Saiyan's fury was in flames, his inability to land a clean blow having been the spark that had ignited the inferno. In his frustration he had bellowed with all his might, producing a deafening sound that itself might have knocked a lesser fighter to the ground.  
  
Realising that this may have been enough to evoke a response from Bobo, Krillin looked to the anguished canine once more. To his horror, Bobo pursed his flopping lips. He then emitted a soft growl, a precursor of what was to come. Panicking that Bobo might draw unwanted attention, Krillin frantically flailed his arms in a desperate effort to attract Bobo's attention. But it was to know avail. Bobo had interpreted the Saiyan's howl as a direct and unacceptable threat to his territory. Bound by his obligation to remain silent, Krillin closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth. From the darkness, he awaited the inevitable. From amid noise of battle, the sound of barking emerged.  
  
Krillin whimpered quietly, knowing that Bobo's vocalisation would attract that unwanted attention. It seemed to go on for an age; the sound of the agitated dog trying to protect what was his. Bobo could not be blamed for his instincts, but Krillin feared that they might have dire consequences.  
  
There was an exquisite silence. The barking had ceased, but so too had the chorus of battle cries. Now Krillin was without both sight and hearing. Cautiously opening his right eye, Krillin looked to Bobo. Once excited and anxious, the animal now appeared nervous and submissive. His mop tail had now sunk beneath the grass, and his huge slathering head was lowered.  
  
Cringing, Krillin opened his second eye and looked towards the scene of the battle. Sure enough, Bobo had acquired everyone's attention, fighters and demons alike. All eyes were now trained on Krillin's position. A picture of surprise was rendered on the faces of the fighters, and of the lead demon. The mortified fighter was able to read a detailed study on the feelings of the demon that had previously hushed him from his expression. He was not best pleased.  
  
Krillin felt uneasy, to say the least. His heart was performing somersaults within his chest, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that it felt as if he might grind his own teeth down to stumps. A nervous laugh escaped from between the fighters tightly locked jaw. The unbearable tension of the situation seemed to demand the relief of dialogue. Raising his right hand, Krillin wriggled his fingers in a feeble wave.  
  
"Uh. hi?"  
  
For another age, Krillin exchanged stares with the peculiar collection of creatures that had accumulated on his property. His greeting had received little response beyond that earned by Bobo's panicked barking, leaving the fighter feeling even more awkward than before.  
  
The alien was the first to break from the staring match. Snapping his bulbous head downwards, he looked towards the two inhuman policemen. His unearthly green eyes widened as he deduced that they were here for him and his fellow pugilist. Quickly he turned to his adversary who was still transfixed by the sight of Krillin and Bobo. The warrior's glare lingered on the Saiyan for a moment as he tried to decide on an appropriate course of action. Glancing one last time at the two officers, he quickly realised what would be his best bet. The air around the fighter ignited as he summoned his ki, and in the briefest of instants he soared skywards.  
  
The Saiyan, brought out of his trance by the flash of light and blast of hot air, turned his gaze to where the alien had once hovered. Finding nothing but shimmering air and singed grass, he looked upwards in time to see a diminishing trail of burning atmosphere as his opponent melted into the infinite firmament. He bounded several paces in the direction that the alien had fled as if preparing to give chase, but as the fiery white streak was extinguished, the age-old fighter let go any hopes of a successful pursuit. The quick little warrior simply had too great a head start. He mourned his loss for a couple of seconds, and then turned his attention to new prey.  
  
Krillin's heart turned to lead, as the Saiyan did not follow the alien's lead. The antiquated fighter was instead turning to face the waiting police officers, and he didn't look happy. With fangs bared and eyes blazing, it appeared he wanted to slake his blood-thirst elsewhere.  
  
In an infinitesimal moment of distilled rage, the Saiyan dredged up every fragment of energy he could muster from the murky depths of his primeval soul. Then, choosing his target, he erupted in a flame of pristine hatred. Surging forwards, the fighter howled as his course brought him inexorably closer to his objective.  
  
Before he had even realised the Saiyan had moved the shrieking horror collided with the leading demon, the violent meeting of bodies resulting in a dull smack. The unfortunate police officer could manage nothing more than a shallow gasp to register his discomfort as its chest was evacuated of air by the crushing force of the blow.  
  
Krillin winced as the two met. The sheer velocity of the Saiyan seemed enough to tear the helpless beast asunder. However, rather than resulting in a gory severing, the collision caused the sturdily built demon to be uprooted and driven at horrifying speed across the battlefield and straight towards Krillin's hill.  
  
Though barely half the size of his victim, the Saiyan's momentum suffered little for the addition of his mammoth cargo. The already ailing meadow vomited debris as it was pummelled once more, unable to cope with the force exerted by mass of flesh that was tearing across its surface.  
  
Krillin grimaced as the living projectile hurtled towards him. Barely able speak between his gritted teeth, he uttered a the only thing that sprang to mind,  
  
"Uh-oh."  
  
The Saiyan drove his prey onwards, without relent until the two finally struck the side of the hill. There was a deafening roar as demon and fighter plunged into the ground, causing it to bleed a surge of earth. The sound was accompanied by the groan of warping of wood as the stamina of Krillin's home was tested once more. This time, the brittle windows shattered under the assault, raining down glittering fragments of light as the shards tumbled from the frames.  
  
Krillin himself was barely able to maintain his balance as the ground bucked and jumped beneath his feet. He held his arms out to steady himself, but was soon lost in a thick cloud of dust. The granules of dirt invaded Krillin's eyes, causing them to sting and moisten. Deprived of sight and loosing his ever more dubious equilibrium, Krillin could do little but allow gravity to have its way. With an anguished yelp, the fighter toppled to the ground.  
  
The quaking ground came to rest after a few seconds, and Krillin Sat up in the tall grass. His eyes were still stinging from the incursion of swarming particles of dust, and all he could sense was the snarling of the nearby Saiyan and the gentle caress of the grass stems on his chin. But as the due cleared from his eyes, he was able to resolve the ancient Saiyan and his unfortunate quarry.  
  
The two were located at the heart of a gaping crater, a good ten metres across. The mouth like opening in the side of the hill coughed up clouds of dust as the enraged Saiyan set upon the hapless demon. Wave after wave of malicious blows thrashed against the beasts body and face. The officer was close to drowning in the rip tide of fists, and was unable even to call for the help of his comrade who was galloping over as quickly as his massive legs could facilitate.  
  
The stricken creature twisted and thrashed its mammoth limbs in a desperate attempt to mount some kind of defence, but the ferocity of the Saiyan's attack allowed the officer no room to manoeuvre. The fighter roared and howled, voicing a disturbing concoction of anger and delight as it vented its wrath upon his squirming victim.  
  
Krillin's mind boiled over with thoughts and emotion. Fear, outrage and guilt had engaged in a fierce tug of war over the fighter's psyche, each vying for control of his subsequent actions. Krillin had always had a soft spot for the underdog, and watching the mighty Saiyan take such twisted pleasure in the mauling of a weakened foe enraged him. Also, he was suffocated by feelings of guilt, convinced that the severity of the situation was his responsibility. Endlessly he assessed and reassessed the chain of events that had led here, playing back scenarios where he had taken action when he felt he should.  
  
Krillin looked into the stewing cauldron of hatred and malice that was the crazed eyes of the Saiyan. There he saw the sadistic pleasure that the cruel Saiyan Nappa had taken in the torment of his friends. He saw the festering contempt in which the Saiyan prince Vegeta held all beings weaker than himself. He saw the cool indifference for life that had been evident in the glacial eyes of Frieza at the terrifying moment of his own demise.  
  
The apprehension reached to every part of Krillin's being, extending its ice-cold tendrils throughout his body. As the energy sapping fear crawled through his muscles he was held in a living rigor mortis. Then there was a change.  
  
The brittle branches of dread shattered as Krillin's spirit ignited, and all of his guilt, anger and fear were tossed as kindling onto a colossal pyre of emotion. With all his internal turmoil to fuel his courage, Krillin became lost in his ki. It now controlled his actions.  
  
Krillin beheld the Saiyan, still consumed in the heinous rapture that came with administering suffering to the weak. The sight stoked the flames of his rage yet further. Crouching down, he prepared to strike. The fighter's ki surged forth in a white-hot, spiralling squall that reached for the rose heavens. Casting one final glance at source of his outrage, he bounded forwards, his unchained energy driving him on. Krillin lowered his head as he powered toward the unwary Saiyan. He intended to ram him. Onwards he went, eyes closed and heart opened, propelled by the flames of his righteous fury.  
  
In the final instant before impact, Krillin's power of reason reasserted itself. Confused and disorientated, his mind groped in the darkness for the slightest modicum of memory of the last few seconds. There was a blinding light, and the search ended. -----------------------------  
  
Stay tooned. 


	4. Busted

The ringing became louder. The sharp sound sliced through the suffocating blanket of silence with a gilded edge. It surrounded and permeated, filling all corners of the night. There was a flickering light. At first weak and unstable, it struggled to maintain itself as the darkness attempted to quell its glow. Gradually it grew in strength, reaching out into oblivion with its warm illumination. As its strength grew the light began to turn back the gloom, and the ink black tide retreated into the nothingness from whence it had come. Thought was reborn.  
  
Revived from unconsciousness, Krillin drew a slow, laborious breath. His mind was still reeling from the impact, and he was overcome by the sensation of spinning rapidly in the darkness. Gradually, the fighter's mind ceased to turn within his head. Still bound by ties of disorientation, Krillin could sense nothing but his own churning thoughts. Scrambled by the force the collision, they raced back and forth through his mind frantically trying to reorganise. Some physical sensation was beginning to return, but still Krillin was without the ability to move. The numbness of paralysis had given way to a peculiar warmth, which turned suddenly to a sharp chill.  
  
Steadily Krillin regained the use of his muscles and began to shift from his grassy bed, slowly hauling his body up from the ground. It was an arduous task as his frame seemed to weigh tens times more than usual, due in no small part to his head which felt as if it were ten times its normal size. Sitting up he felt comforting breeze, and the consoling pat of the grass against his bare arms. But he was still confused, and not entirely aware of where he was or of what had just transpired.  
  
Dragging his heavy eyelids up over his eyes, Krillin was blinded by the brilliance of the outside world. Grunting with discomfort, he squinted and waited for them to adjust to the overload of light. Slowly, some memory of his last few seconds of consciousness began to return. He recalled the Saiyan attacking the demonic police officer, and remembered his own conflicting feelings at this sight. However, everything from then onwards until now was shrouded in dense mist and though occasionally a memory would hove into view, it would be quickly reclaimed once more by the swirling haze.  
  
Groaning once more, Krillin widened his eyes. They had nearly fully acclimatised to the stimuli and were beginning to resume normal function. With this achieved, Krillin returned his attention to his throbbing head. Raising his right hand, he pressed the soothingly cool palm against his temple.  
  
"Ugh. Did anyone get the number of that asteroid?" He enquired of no one in particular.  
  
He then turned his head from side to side to regain his bearings. The motion was cautious, primarily because the fighter's neck was stiff and painful. Also, the blow had left Krillin feeling slightly nauseous, and only seeing his breakfast once a day was enough for him.  
  
Scanning around from his seated position, Krillin searched for clues as to what had happened. However, the dancing grass stems seemed to fight for his attention, swaying from side to side trying to get into his line of sight. Krillin grunted in frustration. Carefully he craned his neck, trying not to aggravate further any injury there may be to his neck. He caught a glimpse of several figures.  
  
There were stood the two police officers, one in full and unruffled uniform, the other swathed in crumpled mess of ragged garments. This was the demon that had been attacked by the Saiyan. Sections of pink skin were visible through the tears in his outfit, but aside from the odd scratch he appeared generally unscathed. Between the two was a slumped mass of fur. Leaning forward, Krillin attempted to get a better view. As he gazed hard at the limp form, he realised it was the Saiyan.  
  
"Woah!" He exclaimed, "Did I do that?"  
  
With that, the two demons looked away from one another, and straight at Krillin.  
  
"Look who's up," said the creature in the unruffled uniform, "its the hero of the hour."  
  
"Hmm. I'll take that as a yes." Krillin muttered to himself, rubbing his still pounding head.  
  
"Hey, thanks for bailing out Garr." The officer smiled, "You really saved his butt."  
  
"I could've taken him, Rott!" Garr stated indignantly.  
  
"Ha! You 'could've taken him' my horn." Rott disagreed whimsically, deliberately trying to get a rise out of his partner.  
  
Meanwhile, Krillin was working his way up onto his feet. He listened to the banter of the police officers, and wondered if constant bickering was a common trait among this type of demon. Finally reaching an upright stance, Krillin interrupted in the demons' argument.  
  
"Hey. uh. guys," he began, " how long was I out for?"  
  
"Oh, a couple of minutes." Rott replied, breaking from the exchange with Garr, "You really whacked this guy hard." He said, looking down to his unconscious charge.  
  
Krillin looked at the Saiyan, and fought to contain a conceited smirk.  
  
"So, I did that, huh." He hazarded.  
  
"Well, not all on your own." Rott corrected him.  
  
"Oh." Said Krillin, trying not to sound too disappointed. The idea of him having single-handedly floored a Saiyan warrior had appealed to his ego.  
  
"You had some help from my little friend." Rott informed him, unclipping a black rod from his belt with his free hand. The demon then depressed a small red button at the middle of the rod, causing tiny bolts of lightning to leap and crackle playfully between two jutting electrodes at the end of the instrument. Rott then looked back down at the oblivious Saiyan, "Isn't that right my good man?" He then closed his bear trap jaws, and began to perform a dubious ventriloquist act.  
  
"Why, yes it is, Constable Rott." The Saiyan 'replied'. Now that the danger had passed, Rott seemed a very amiable character in contrast to the demon that had shushed Krillin earlier on.  
  
Garr turned his head away disapprovingly at the sight of Rott's horse-play. Though his body had escaped serious injury, it was apparent that his pride remained in critical condition.  
  
So, all the pieces had fallen into place. From what Krillin's rattled mind could tell, he had attacked the Saiyan and incapacitated him long enough for Rott to knock him out with the tazer-gun. Though it had not quite been the romantic, daring rescue Krillin had hoped, the ends had justified the means.  
  
"Garr! Rott!" a raspy voice raced against the wind, "Stop wasting time and get the prisoner in the van before he comes round."  
  
The owner of this voice was a gaunt, severe looking little demon. Similar in appearance to a human male, his only demonic features were his reptilian blue flesh and caustic tone of voice. His uniform was identical to that of his subordinates, but for his headwear. Rather than a dome helmet, he sported a flat peaked cap with a lustrous crest at its fore. His harsh words were enough to cause the hulking Garr and Rott to desist from there procrastinating. Baring the expression of scolded children they began to drag the comatose Saiyan towards the van, lowering their heads submissively as they did.  
  
Krillin watched them go. Once again he was plagued by pangs of guilt, this time for having got the demons in trouble with their boss. Their displeased looking superior was now wading through the sea of grass towards Krillin, carrying blue clipboard in scaly hands hand and a vexed expression on his slender face.  
  
"You there!" he barked. Krillin flinched at the abrasive address, "What's your name?"  
  
Krillin shuddered. He didn't bare-up well under this kind of pressure, and the haranguing of the demon supervisor was putting him under some strain.  
  
"Well, spit it out man." The demon ordered.  
  
"Um, uh, Krillin sir." Krillin stuttered, then laughed nervously. This stern nagging was reminiscent of all those times he had had to explain to Goku's authoritarian wife Chi Chi why Goku was going to be late for dinner, or why Gohan had come home with mud on his clothes. It wasn't at all pleasant.  
  
The demon captain slid a pen out from within the metal clip at the top of his clipboard, and then began to scribble notes on the paper attached to the same. With the words being inscribed out of the fighter's view, Krillin was left to guess what was being jotted about him on the other side of the board. He continued to print for several seconds, the scraping of the ball point on the parchment grating on Krillin's nerves like finger nails on a chalk board. Finally, the demon stopped writing, and looked down at the ground to Krillin's right.  
  
"So, Mr Krillin," he said, "is this your dog?"  
  
"Huh?" Krillin had to scour his cluttered brain for a moment in order to determine what he was talking about.  
  
Then he remembered. Looking down to his right he found Bobo, tail raised and tongue hanging, looking quizzically at the questioning officer.  
  
"Hey there boy!" Krillin greeted the canine. He then knelt down and embraced the great maned beast, "Am I ever glad to see you. You all right, boy?"  
  
Krillin began to inspect the hounds dust laden coat and body for damage.  
  
"Ah-hem!" the demon cleared his throat as loudly as possible in order to regain Krillin's attention.  
  
"Huh?" Krillin gazed up at the captain vacantly, "Oh! Oh yeah! Yes, this is my dog."  
  
"Ah ha." the captain acknowledged Krillin's reply, and then wrote a few more words. He then returned his glare to the kneeling fighter, "Do you realise that it has just cost us a very important apprehension?"  
  
Krillin furrowed his brow, and stood upright. His jangling nerves were now reinforced with irritation.  
  
"HIS name is Bobo," Krillin stated, taking exception to the demon's use of the word 'it' in reference to his fur-bedecked friend, "and it's not his fault. He was just scared."  
  
Bobo seconded the motion with grumbling whine.  
  
"And besides, I helped you catch the Saiyan. What more do want? And another thing," the disgruntled fighter was on a roll, "why were there bad guys going at it in my back yard in the first place? It never said anything about that in the brochure!"  
  
The demon sighed, and replaced his pen at the top of his clipboard.  
  
"All complaints are to be formally lodged at the offices of King Yemma." He said wearily.  
  
Krillin was slightly confused by this response. His question had been intended to glean information rather than register a complaint. But before he could clarify his intentions, the demon had already started back towards the van.  
  
"In future Mr Krillin, please stay clear of police business." He called back, but Krillin did not answer, "Rott! Start the van!"  
  
Krillin did not bother to watch the paddy wagon leave. Instead, he turned back towards his home.  
  
"Oh man." He muttered, beholding the yawning crater in his hill, "My back yard is totalled."  
  
However, though the mess was quite severe, Krillin was not too concerned. Doubtless the authorities would send someone to fix it up. If anything could be said for this realm, it was that the local services were efficient. From behind he heard the hum of the van's engine as scurried off towards the horizon.  
  
"Well, I guess I'm off to see King Yemma." Krillin informed Bobo. It seemed as good a place as any to get the information he desired.  
  
The dog pricked his ears and panted enthusiastically.  
  
"Oh no, you are not coming with. You've got yourself in enough trouble for day." Krillin scolded.  
  
Bobo whined in disappointment at this. He lay down in the grass and dropped his head down onto his fore limbs.  
  
Krillin turned toward the horizon. It didn't matter what direction he faced, if he willed it he would eventually arrive at King Yemma's office. But as he prepared to take to the sky, he heard a sound. The fighter could feel the gentle rumbling throughout his body. Krillin felt the icy tendrils of fear scaling his spine once more as he began to suspect the alien might be returning.  
  
Panicking, he looked about, probing the surroundings for a strong Ki. But the choppy oceanic mass of intermingling auras yielded nothing. Krillin stood bemused for a short while, trying to ascertain the source of the sound. Then he looked down, beginning to suspect that the source may be closer to home than he had initially thought. It was then that he realised that it was his stomach. Embarrassed at his own actions, Krillin laughed too, and at, himself.  
  
"Oops." He giggled, smiling down at Bobo, "In all the excitement, I guess I forgot to feed myself!"  
  
And so, with canine companion at his side, Krillin returned to his battered cottage to salvage a meal. 


	5. Office Hours

The atmosphere of the once busy, happy other-world had changed considerably from what it had been earlier that morning. As Krillin cruised above the rolling hills and lush pastures, he found it a challenge to spot any souls at all. The temperate breeze that had once relayed the cheery babbling of intermingled conversations was now empty and bland. Lonely and discontented, it meandered over the landscape whispering quietly to itself as if trying to compensate for the loss of discourse.  
  
Occasionally, the shrieking of sirens emanating from beyond the horizon broke the silence. Like the mournful cry of restless spirits, they seemed to ward off any who might approach and suffer whatever fate had befallen them in life. The meadows were empty, taking on a foreboding nature, no longer promising an eternity of peace. In its place, it offered an oppressive solitude in which one might spend forever going quietly mad.  
  
Krillin shivered as the air currents tumbled over his body. Though the air was warm, the frigid silence that it brought chilled the fighter to his core.  
  
"I hope I get there soon." Krillin muttered, preferring to address himself rather than restricting the observation to thought. With this utterance he sought to break the deafening hush, but the relief was short lived as the quietness came crashing back upon the unsettled warrior. Indeed, Krillin wished dearly to arrive at the check in station soon so that he might find the comfort of company.  
  
Just as Krillin was beginning to think he might spend his entire afterlife in transit over the desolate fields the horizon ahead began to change. A sickly yellow haze was separating the blushing pink sky and serene blue grasslands that had previously been locked in a reclining kiss. As the journey wore on, the band of vapour drove the heavens and the earth further apart. The cloud continued off to infinity, shifting and turning over on itself like a gently rolling seascape. At the shore of the nebulous ocean stood a large, imposing building constructed in the in an oriental style which dominated Krillin's view. The edifice gazed down authoritatively upon a single, cobbled path that reached out a few hundred meters from the doorway toward the incoming fighter before gradually fading from existence.  
  
Krillin withdrew some of his ki, which slowed his approach considerably as he coasted over the pathway where lengthy queue had formed consisting of a multitude of ill-defined forms. He squinted and tried to make out an outline for the patiently queuing objects. Krillin recognised these as the incoming souls from Earth and beyond, waiting for final judgement to be passed upon them. However, there was something peculiar about the rank of spirits. From his own memory, he recalled that the operation at the check in station was most efficient, and that generally the line moved quite quickly. This didn't seem to be the case from Krillin's current vantage point however, as file of auras seemed to be totally stationary but for their candle like flickering.  
  
Reaching the front of the office building, Krillin eased off his energy and dropped gently to the ground. His feet were greeted by the soft hiss of the grass which, unlike the waltzing foliage near his home, was carefully cut and rolled to form orderly ranks about half a meter across that stood guard parallel to the pathway.  
  
Along the path itself, the souls of the recently deceased abided patiently to be attended to by the mighty King Yemma.  
  
Krillin took a moment to observe the resting spirits. The sight was in fact quite beautiful. Each of the souls appeared as brilliant white sphere, surrounded by a translucent flame that fluttered and danced around the central concentration. Every one of these mesmerising wisps represented a person. Stripped of appearance and pretence, they were the distilled essence of there former selves. Looking at them, Krillin felt he could reach out with his own spirit and perhaps touch someone's inner being, revealing dimensions to their existence that might never have been revealed in life. It was this perfect honesty and vulnerability that afforded the auras a supernatural beauty that transcended the physical world.  
  
"Excuse me." a voice shattered Krillin's quiet contemplation of the shimmering orbs, "Excuse me, can I help you?"  
  
It was an effort for Krillin to tear his gaze from the enchanting apparitions, but persevering, he was eventually able to turn from them and look to his addresser. Before him stood a skinny, pink skinned demon dressed in a most unusual manner. The humanoid creature, decked in white shirt, striped tie and tiger striped trousers, stared hard at Krillin through thick, black-framed spectacles.  
  
"Hello? Is there anybody home?" the demon enquired flippantly in an eloquent, nasal voice.  
  
"Right. Yeah." Krillin began in an unsure tone, "Um, my name's Krillin. Er, if it's not to much trouble, I'd like to speak with King Yemma."  
  
There was an awkward void in the discourse. For a time, the demon simply stared at Krillin with an expressionless face. It was as if he had not quite understood what the fighter had asked of him. Krillin raised his right and placed it against the clammy skin on the back of his neck. Uncomfortable with the prolonged eye contact, he turned his gaze downwards.  
  
"You want to see King Yemma?" the break in the silence finally came, "You want to see King Yemma?!"  
  
Krillin was taken aback by the aggressive response to his inquiry.  
  
"Well. yeah. There's something I'd really like to talk to him about, if that's okay." He told the demon.  
  
"Hmph. You and the rest of the other dimension." The demon snapped, gesturing to the still waiting row of souls.  
  
Krillin peered over the demon's shoulder and the tarrying multitude. It was then that he noticed another oddity. The doors to King Yemma's were closed, the two towering, angry-red wooden sentinels standing guard across the doorway blocking any entry to the building. During the entire course of both Krillin's visits to the afterlife, he had never seen this happen. King Yemma had always been there, doors open, ready to receive incoming deceased.  
  
"Well if he's not here, then where can I find him?" Krillin asked. The demon raised his eyebrows.  
  
"I wish I knew! All I know is that I got into work this morning, and he tells me he's leaving the office. For the first time in four hundred years, he's leaving the office! Four hundred years without so much as a bathroom break, and suddenly he goes walk about." At this stage, Krillin opened his mouth in an attempt to break into the discontented monologue but was cut off instantly. The demon had taken Krillin's question as an invitation to off load his pet peeves, "I asked him where he was going, but no. It's 'private and confidential', he says. Of course, no one tells me anything around here. They're quick enough to call me when they want something, though. 'Take this soul to east elysium', 'take those souls to west elysium', 'give that soul a lift to snake way'. Do you have any idea what it costs to insure a car for myself and an entire afterlife full of passengers?! I wouldn't mind, but they don't even pay for my gas consumption!"  
  
Krillin endured the ceaseless torrent of rants for a few more anger soaked sentences before finally prising his way into the conversation.  
  
"Look," Krillin said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible, "is there anyone here who can help me?"  
  
The demon's expression softened, his tensed shoulders fell at ease.  
  
"Hmm. I suppose that depends on what it is you want." The demon said, the disgruntlement no longer evident in his voice.  
  
Though he had come to get an explanation of the alarming goings-on on his property earlier that day, Krillin was doubtful of whether that would a wise question to ask. He suspected that all the strange events of the day were in some way linked and that, if King Yemma's tight-lipped behaviour towards his own staff was anything to go by, he was unlikely to get any useful response to his inquiry. Thinking hard about his subsequent question, he recalled what the disagreeable police captain had said to him.  
  
"A complaint!" Krillin exclaimed, as he was touched by the gracious hand of inspiration. He then realised his own freakish enthusiasm might arouse suspicion, and quickly calmed himself, "Um, I'd like to make a complaint.please."  
  
At this, the demon drew his head back and his eyebrows shot skywards. Taken aback by Krillin's request he dithered for a moment, and then gathered himself once more.  
  
"A complaint." He said, looking over Krillin's head at nothing in particular, "We, uh.we don't get many of those." He observed. The demon then raised a clawed hand, and began to scratch at the wreath of black hair that protruded from the base of the solitary, ebony horn that crowned his head. "Hmm, I guess you could go to deceased services. They have an inquiry booth just around the corner." The demon accompanied the information with a gesture towards the corner of the building behind Krillin.  
  
The fighter glanced over his shoulder, then back at the demon.  
  
"Thanks." He said with a grateful smile, "See you around."  
  
"No problem." The demon replied, "Have a nice day."  
  
The two then turned from one another and parted company, each heading for their own allotted business. As Krillin strode towards the corner of the office building, he could hear the demon's distinctive tones as he worked at maintaining order among the queue of delayed spirits.  
  
"You! Back in line!" he ordered. There then came a short silence before the demon continued, "Don't give me any backchat, mister! I've seen your record and you're in enough trouble as it is!"  
  
Krillin chuckled to himself at the sound of the demon apparently talking to himself, and continued on his way to the deceased services booth.  
  
Rounding the corner he was confronted with the sight of a lengthy wall, which reached away to the edge of the office grounds, and ended abruptly as terra firma plunged into the opaque yellow clouds. The wall was interrupted by only a small window about a third the way down its length, and a mammoth archway ten meters further on. There was no activity what so ever. Leaning away from the wall, Krillin tried to achieve a better angle from which observe the squared, glass-covered hollow.  
  
"I guess that's were I'm going." He muttered, shrugging his shoulders. The fighter then set off along side the wall.  
  
As he travelled the building's perimeter, Krillin contemplated several things. He tried to guess what could have resulted in the altercation that had taken place outside his home earlier on, and wondered what might cause such a cryptic change in King Yemma's usual routine. A small portion of thought was also given over to how the voice the demon manning the office doors was reminiscent of Woody Allen. But for the most part, Krillin mulled over what he would say upon reaching the inquiry booth. Though he was distressed by the destruction wrought by the rogue warriors, he didn't have any real intention of complaining. All he wanted was to know what was going on. But the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed he was going to get the answers he needed through these channels.  
  
Krillin was now nearing the booth, but still had little idea of what he would say; I suppose I'll just have to wing it; he thought to himself.  
  
Upon stepping before the booth Krillin was confronted by his own mirror image, staring back at him quizzically from the shimmering pane of glass. Beyond the window was total darkness. It was like staring into a vat of crude oil. There didn't appear to be anyone manning the post.  
  
"Hello?" Krillin called out timidly.  
  
Krillin pressed his hands down against the short counter that extended from below the window, but quickly withdrew them as they were met with a soft, grainy texture. The fighter looked down to see his own handprints impressed upon a thick layer of dust and grime. He then looked to his hands, finding them also to be coated in filth.  
  
"Ugh." He muttered, and began to brush the muck away on his tunic, "They mustn't have much use for this place."  
  
Indeed, the deserted booth did appear to be in a state of total disuse. It did make sense to Krillin, though. After all, how often would one expect a complaint in a land of infinite peace and joy?  
  
Something caught Krillin's eye. To the right of the kiosk there was a small, golden button. It was situated at the heart of an ornate dragon's head, no bigger than the palm of Krillin's hand. The miniature metallic beast had been captured mid-roar, and had the button set into the back of its gaping jaws. Below the button there was a plaque. Both examples of metalwork had their contours accentuated by layers of dirt that had worked their way into every groove and depression. The plaque read, 'Ring For Attention'. Krillin looked about one last time, then reached out for the button with his right index finger.  
  
Krillin's finger was about to pass between the needle-like teeth of the brass dragon when he caught wind of what sounded like whispering. The stream of words was weak and intermittent, but it was definitely the sound of conversing voices. Krillin retracted his finger, and listened carefully to murmuring. Individual words were elusive, and almost indistinguishable from the mournful lament of the winds that swirled about the roof and ramparts of the palatial office block. Looking further down the wall, Krillin saw the archway once more. He was almost certain that this was the place from which the voices were emanating. Consumed with curiosity, Krillin abandoned his efforts to attract attention to the service desk, and began to stealthily make his way towards the arch. Moving further along the wall, Krillin kept a close ear on the sound so as not to lose it to the rambling breeze.  
  
Upon reaching the archway, he pressed his back up against the wall. Carefully, he peered round the corner. Beyond the arch lay a large, open courtyard. The expanse was carpeted with the same neatly mowed grass that surrounded the outer boundary of the building, and was encompassed by walls similar to those that composed the building's exterior. Orderly ranks of well-groomed shrubbery stood motionless around periphery of the courtyard like troops falling in for inspection. Krillin could not see the whole area from his vantage point, but he could see the parties responsible for the hushed uttering. There, stood with his back to a large open door, was yet another demon. Similar in appearance and apparel to his colleague at the entrance, he was placed at the feet of a monstrous creature far larger than any of those Krillin had encountered elsewhere on the other side. The terrifying ogre's face was a deep hue of pink and partially obscured by a forest of thick black facial hair. It was dressed in a business suit similar in colour to its own skin pigmentation, and wore a hat of the same tone drawn on over two bovine horns. This was the mighty King Yemma.  
  
Krillin was in luck. It appeared that Yemma had not yet left as the demon at the front of the building had thought. Listening carefully, Krillin once more attempted to ascertain the subject of the conversation. Unfortunately, he was able to discern precious few words, certainly not enough to glean any useful information.  
  
The conversation dried up, and the two turned away from one another. The smaller demon melted into the darkness beyond the open doors, which promptly closed behind him. Yemma's ponderous bulk also began to shift. Krillin ducked behind the wall as the ogre's turning circle brought his field of vision across where he had been peeking out. After a few seconds, the fighter took the chance of peering out once more.  
  
Yemma was now making his way across the grassy courtyard. Krillin craned his neck around the wall in an effort to see where the ogre was going. Then, for a terrifying instant, he thought he might lose his balance. With an almost inaudible yelp, the warrior froze, and waited for King Yemma to amble out of sight. There he teetered on the brink of discovery for what seemed like hours. Yemma was moving infuriatingly slowly.  
  
"C'mon, c'mon." Krillin rasped under his breath, willing the ogre onwards.  
  
Only when he was certain that the monstrous monarch would not notice, did he allow himself to set one foot forward and regain his equilibrium. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Krillin leaned over once again to re- establish his lock on the ogre.  
  
Yemma was now standing along side a crimson, open topped car. Lacking wheels in much the same way as the police van Krillin had encountered earlier on, it rested on its belly in the middle of the gardens. This vehicle also had curvaceous bodywork and was surrounded at its base by a continuous chrome bumper, which displayed a warped reflection of its surroundings on its polished surface.  
  
Without bothering to open the door, King Yemma began to clamber into the car. His grunts of effort were accompanied by the whining of the chassis as the gargantuan driver strained to haul himself over the side. The car seemed to be having as much difficulty with the ogre as the ogre was having with it as, all though it was much larger than the average car back on earth, it was still far cry from being to scale with the behemoth Yemma.  
  
The sight of the huge King trying to work his way into the woefully undersized vehicle was quite comical. Krillin, sporting an amused smirk, drew his head back around the edge of the arch. However, the fighter's jovial expression belied the seriousness of his contemplation. Krillin had no idea where Yemma was going, and as he listened to the grunts and curses divulged by the ogre as he set about the near impossible task of wedging himself into the driver's seat, he knew he had limited time to decide on his next course of action.  
  
Peering around the corner again, Krillin saw King Yemma sitting in the car. The mighty ogre was still shifting about trying to achieve optimum comfort. The fighter realised that if he wanted to know King Yemma's destination, then there was only one way for him to find out. Ducking down, he prepared to step out into the open. Then, he hesitated.  
  
Krillin recognised this moment. It was a moment that had occurred before at the beginning of each of his adventures. Now was the time that he could back out. Simply stand up and walk away. If he persisted beyond this milestone, he knew that he would have embarked upon a journey from which there could be no turning back. Krillin looked over his shoulder to the distant horizon. Just beyond the faraway limits of what he could see lay his new home. Quiet and safe, he could go back there and sit out what was to come, letting someone else deal with whatever trials lay ahead. There he could truly rest, and enjoy the peace he had earned in life.  
  
But Krillin knew he could never be content in such an existence. Though he had fretted through all those times he had spent in fear, pain and uncertainty, he could never trade them in for the mundane, mediocre existence that might satisfy another man. And for all he knew, this could be his last ever shot at an adventure in this infinitely tranquil realm.  
  
"Why break the habit of a lifetime." He sighed.  
  
Then, crouching down once more he peered out at King Yemma, and prepared to make his move. 


	6. Cue Ball In The Side Pocket

The movement of the giant King Yemma transfixed Krillin. The ogre was still squirming in his seat trying to find a position that facilitated both comfort and the operation of the vehicle. Krillin's heart was racing, and he could feel the heaving of blood the vessels in the sides of his head as the rivers of plasma were driven through their channels and tributaries as his body was being primed for action. Though every muscle in his body was prepared for use, he knew he could not so much as flinch until he was certain Yemma would not spot him.  
  
King Yemma looked down to the matt black dashboard against which his colossal shins were pressed. This was Krillin's chance. The fighter inhaled a full chest of air, and darted around the wall.  
  
In a split second, Krillin bolted into the open, and found himself standing dangerously exposed at the focus of the archway. The fighter flicked his head from side to side like a startled animal, scanning his immediate surroundings for a way to approach Yemma without attracting his attention. Looking to his left, he saw that there was a narrow space between the building and the ordered ranks of trees that surrounded the courtyard. Without a second thought, Krillin drew in another breath and slipped into the gap.  
  
Carefully, Krillin manoeuvred himself up against the wall. He could feel the cool, smooth leaves brushing against his skin as the numerous appendages of the floral ranks swept slowly over the contours of his face as if trying to identify the intruder. The shrubbery afforded the warrior some concealment, however the leaves only extended downwards as far as his midriff. This meant that his legs visible, leaving him with no margin for error.  
  
Practising extreme caution so as not to disturb the surrounding plant-life, Krillin inched his way along the wall with his back press firmly against the coarse brickwork. All the time, he observed the movements of King Yemma, whose image was made dappled and changeable by the shifting network of interlocking branches of the hedgerow.  
  
Carefully, Krillin moved into position directly behind King Yemma's car. Feeling confident that he was far enough out of the ogre's field of vision, he began to sink towards the ground, the fabric of his garments grazing the wall as he went. The noise this made seemed deafening to Krillin, as all his senses had become heightened. Fortunately however, it appeared that the ogre Yemma did not share the trait of exceptional hearing with the police demons Krillin had encountered previously. As a result, the fighter was able to slip down to his knees unnoticed, his folded joints sinking slightly into the moist earth as his weight came to rest upon them.  
  
With King Yemma once again in full view, Krillin took a moment to regroup. Countless beads of sweat were racing down his face, charting numerous clammy routes across an obstacle course of facial features. The fighter was in fact quite surprised by the anxiety he was experiencing at a situation that paled before many of those he had encountered in life.  
  
Man, I'm coming apart here; he thought to himself; I've been out of the loop for way too long.  
  
The fighter drew another breath, and dropped his body forwards allowing the weight of his torso to fall upon the palms of his hands, which came to rest against the short grass that lay beyond the bushes. Krillin then began to crawl out into the open.  
  
The bristle-like grass stems hissed their disdain for the fighter as his hands and knees drove them into the sod from which they sprouted. Once more, Krillin was terrified that the muffled racket that he was causing would lead to his discovery. Once more, it did not.  
  
A sudden explosion of sound destroyed the hush in the courtyard. Krillin's heart momentarily neglected its duties in fright and the fighter leaped to his feet with a startled yelp. Realising he had just broken the temporary oath of silence he had taken on entering the courtyard, he threw both grimy hands, one on top of the other, across his open mouth. Wide eyed with panic, he stood motionless watching the towering back of King Yemma and waiting for a reaction. It never came.  
  
The sound was that of King Yemma's car backfiring. Once again fate had graced Krillin with its mercy, as the sound of his cry of surprise had been submerged in the commotion of the vehicle's engine. Still ice bound with fear, Krillin watched as the bright red automobile slowly levitated from the ground. The car was visibly engaged in a close fought battle with gravity in its bid to lift Yemma's plentiful frame. Tilting and faltering, its battle more than once looked to be lost. Persistence won through however, and the vehicle levelled off a couple of feet from the ground.  
  
Krillin quickly thawed from his panic-induced stasis as he realised his ride was about to depart without him. The fighter scampered the last few meters to the rear of the car, his footfalls masked by the anguished lamentation of the overworked engine. The ample rear bumper of the vehicle was fully half the fighter's height and similar in depth, allowing Krillin to bound nimbly onto to its shining surface. There he crouched, and looked up at the looming pink cliff face that was King Yemma's back. He then turned away and sat down on the cold, hard bumper. Relaxing, Krillin allowed his shoulders to slump down as he exhaled for the first time since he had left the sanctuary of the bushes.  
  
No sooner had the lukewarm air passed over the fighter's parched tongue, the car lurched into motion. Its initial movement was gradual and laboured as it travelled the first few meters to the sound of the motor grumbling miserably at the shear magnitude of its task.  
  
Krillin looked up to Yemma in surprise as his booming voice interrupted the complaining of the engine.  
  
"Ah-ha!" the ogre exclaimed, causing Krillin to fear he was discovered, "Now we're talkin'!"  
  
Krillin frowned, at a loss as to the meaning of this cryptic statement. But before he had a chance to ponder the meaning of Yemma's words, the vehicle erupted from a relative stand still, the sudden burst of speed almost throwing Krillin from his perch. However, the worst was yet to come. The ogre's driving style seemed to match his fearsome appearance as he turned the car sharply, burdening Krillin with very nearly more inertia than he could handle. The fighter's rear slid from the treacherous surface of the bumper as the tail end of the vehicle was flung violently through one hundred and eighty degrees. Krillin flipped his body and grasped blindly for a handhold. Luck was on his side once again as he was able to slip his fingers into the crevice between the body and bumper of the car.  
  
"Here we go!" Yemma shouted, before administering yet another excessive dose of speed.  
  
With that, car, ogre, and dangling fighter blazed through the archway and out of the courtyard.  
  
With the vehicle now out in the open and moving at a fairly steady velocity, Krillin was able to drag himself back up onto the bumper. Having reclaimed his seat on the chrome surface, Krillin gulped copious quantities of air into his oxygen starved lungs. The turbulent slipstream that spun away from the body of the car and its driver had been converging on Krillin's face, making respiration a virtual impossibility. Thankfully, King Yemma's speed lust seemed to have worn off for now, allowing Krillin to breath once more.  
  
Krillin rubbed the throbbing arm with which he had been hanging on to the vehicle moments earlier. Looking back in the direction in from which he had come, he watched the office building recede into the distance. Wherever King Yemma was going, Krillin was now going as well.  
  
  
  
Krillin struggled to keep his eyelids from dropping over his moistening eyes. A combination of the hypnotic dirge of the engine and the tedious nature of the journey were making difficult for the fighter to stay awake. It was a worrying problem, as he couldn't risk nodding off, lest he should topple from the fender of King Yemma's car. What had at first promised to be a roller coaster ride of a voyage had quickly settled into a mind numbingly monotonous odyssey across countless miles of unchanging, uninhabited scenery. The drawling song of the motor had been interrupted from time to time as the ogre Yemma muttered mental notes to himself. None of these verbal memos were relevant to Krillin however, and involved mostly personal subject matter; dry cleaning, shopping, dentist appointments, and such like. It had been a chore for the wearied warrior to prevent himself from blowing his own cover with an impatient cry of 'Are we there yet!'  
  
Looking down and away from the bland horizon, Krillin attempted to find solace amid the tall azure blades of grass that had been constant companions to him on his quest thus far. But even this ally seemed to have turned on him. The blades swayed from side to side in a metronome-like fashion as the turbulence caused by the car disturbed them from their rest, the rhythmic motion also conspiring to lull the fighter into an impromptu slumber. Krillin closed his eyes hard, and shook his head with the aim of casting off sleep's pacifying embrace.  
  
I can't take much more of this; he thought as he fought a bitter conflict with his own fatigue to prevent his head from dropping down into his lap.  
  
Relief came as the car began to slow down. Shaking off the last of his drowsiness, Krillin took the chance of peeking out from his hiding place. What he saw caused him to retreat quickly back out of sight. There, in the middle of nowhere, was stood a red and white striped barrier. Alongside the lowered bar was a chair seating a single, human sized demon, dressed in a light brown security guard's uniform. Krillin had not had time to take in the details of the creature's garb, having withdrawn himself instantly at the sight it.  
  
There was a gentle jolt as the vehicle finally came to a halt. The motor continued to turn over, muttering disconsolately to itself as it maintained the car and its hefty operator at a steady height above the ground.  
  
A few moments passed, during which the cars murmuring went uninterrupted. Curious about the lack of activity, Krillin ventured a second glance around the side of the vehicle. This time he found he could afford to linger in his observation as, upon closer inspection, the security guard turned out to be asleep. He was slumped untidily in the wooden seat, arms folded and legs submerged in the gently swaying grass. The creature's blue face was covered from the bridge of his nose upwards by a flat brown cap. The image of the lonely barrier and its snoozing sentry was a surreal, and quite amusing one. Krillin drew his head back behind the car, and awaited an angry response from King Yemma. He wasn't disappointed.  
  
"Hey, you!" the ogre bellowed at the top of his formidable voice. Remarkably, the sleeping guardian was only partially stirred from his slumber.  
  
"Just five more minutes, mommy." He muttered softly.  
  
Krillin's eyes widened as a torrent of laughter threatened to burst from between his tightly fastened lips. King Yemma, on the other hand, was not even remotely amused.  
  
"Wake up, damn it!" he roared.  
  
With that the demon was torn from the comforting blanket of sleep, and brutally thrust into the real world. Krillin could here the petrified gasp emitted by the guard as he awoke to the horrific sight of an irate King Yemma.  
  
"King Yemma!" the guard rasped, almost hyperventilating with shock, "I. I was just."  
  
"Sleeping on the job?" King Yemma completed the sentence for the traumatised demon, "And at a time like this! Agh, you're just lucky I'm in such a hurry! Now, get this barrier up!"  
  
There was a short pause, followed by what sounded like a loud gulping sound.  
  
"I'm. afraid I c-can't do that sir." The guard stammered, suggesting that the gulp had been the sound of the demon preparing to take his life into his hands.  
  
"What?!" Yemma screamed, his furious tones rending the calm of the unending meadow, "What do you mean you can't do that?!"  
  
"Well, the regulations say I have to check the car out before I allow it to pass." The guard informed the fuming King.  
  
Krillin's amusement ended with that timidly delivered sentence. His expression transformed into one of panic as he realised that he was on the cusp of discovery.  
  
"Whose dumb-ass idea was that!" Yemma growled.  
  
The gulping sound came once more.  
  
"It was yours.sir." The guard replied, gingerly.  
  
There was a break in the discourse.  
  
"Oh." King Yemma said, he then continued with renewed ferocity, "Well.get on with it then!"  
  
Yemma then deactivated the vehicle, which dropped abruptly to the ground causing it to whine and groan as its innards were jarred and buffeted.  
  
"Yes sir." The demon said, once the vehicle's anguished lament had subsided.  
  
Krillin seized up at the sound of the demon's footfalls as he came up alongside the vehicle. Fighting against his own petrifying body, he pulled his legs up onto the fender and began to scuttle on his hands and knees to the opposite side of the car to that from which the security guard was approaching. Rounding the corner of the bumper, he looked up, reassuring himself that King Yemma would not see him. As he had hoped, the ogre was sat eyes front, waiting for the tiresome formalities to end.  
  
Krillin continued to scurry along the smooth metal surface. His every movement was carefully calculated so as not to produce the slightest noise as he circumvented the mountainous form of King Yemma. The fighter then ceased his expedition for a moment, sitting down once more. Pressing his back against the bodywork of the car he rested, and quenched his thirst for air with slow, controlled breaths. The fighter was now situated just a few inches from the door of King Yemma's car, a blind spot to both the ogre and the investigating security guard.  
  
Krillin caught his breath as he felt the clank of the trunk being opened. The sound reverberated through the cool metal body of the car, running like a sharp chill across the fighter's back. He realised then that it was only a matter of time before the security guard arrived to inspect his side of the vehicle. Looking about, he searched for an alternative hiding place. Retreating further around the bumper was out of the question, as it would almost certainly attract the attention of King Yemma. Krillin even considered taking off in the hope he would go unnoticed in the skies above Yemma and the demon, but dismissed the idea, believing that if he wanted to progress any further he would have to remain close to the ogre.  
  
Krillin glanced up to Yemma once more, double-checking that there would not be spotted. Indeed, the risk of this was minimal as the ogre was still staring over the windshield. Growing impatient, he began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. The beating of his immense fingers on the wheel produced a further vibration that resounded through the vehicle's components.  
  
Krillin looked down and back to the rear of the car. He then made a double take. Looking back up at King Yemma, he noticed that the bottom of the ogre's jacket was draped untidily across the top of the door. As a result the huge pocket was hanging slightly open, with the door supporting its weight. Krillin contemplated the beckoning pouch, and then cast a look of resignation at the ground. Shaking his head gently, he thought to himself; I must be crazy.  
  
Carefully, Krillin got to his feet and peered back to the end of the car. The demon was still rummaging through the contents of the vehicle's cavernous rear, his efforts hidden by the raised lid. The fighter then cast his eyes upwards to the pocket. Now came the tricky part. Krillin was unsure of whether king Yemma was capable of sensing the kis of others, but was certain that he would be detected if he attempted to get into the pocket the old fashioned way. If he was to gain entry, he would have to risk flight.  
  
Summoning the barest minimum of energy required to lift himself from the bumper, Krillin began a slow and unsteady ascent. The fighter bit down gently on his bottom lip, an action that denoted the depth of his concentration. It was a far more difficult task than he had imagined. Applying such a minuscule fraction of his ki to an activity was like trying to fill a glass from a white-water river without it being swept away.  
  
Krillin chanced another glance at the demon who was still behind the car. Fortunately, he guard remained hidden behind the lid of the trunk. However, this momentary lapse in Krillin's concentration caused his stability to falter. Returning all his concentration to the task in hand, Krillin set about stabilising himself. The danger passed as he regained control, and began to manoeuvre his body over the open pocket. The fighter held his breath as he did so, fearing that the sound of his respiration might be funnelled into the gigantic receiver dish that was King Yemma's right ear.  
  
Positioning himself over the pocket, Krillin glanced downwards. The cavity below was completely darkened, defying his attempts to make out either its bottom or contents. Judging by the other strange phenomena he had encountered in this dimension, it was entirely possible that the pocket had no bottom and simply plunged down endlessly into an infinite night.  
  
Krillin banished the thought from his head. What use could there be for a pocket with no bottom? He felt foolish for even having considered it. Wasting no more time with pointless postulating, Krillin began to descend feet first into the unknown. 


	7. The Descent

Krillin descended cautiously, the fabric of king Yemma's pocket slowly eclipsing the pink sky as the outside world slowly sank out of view. As he dropped blindly through the gloom Krillin half expected not to find any footing at all, and to have to hang in mid air until an opportunity for escape arose. This was not necessary however, as the fighter's feet soon found a solid purchase. Allowing himself to exhale, Krillin relaxed what little of his ki he had utilised and rested his weight on the bed of his dark refuge.  
  
The fighter was now completely concealed within King Yemma's jacket pocket. The fit was a snug one, and Krillin's head was merely inches from its entrance. Uncomfortable with his proximity to the outside world, the warrior decided to try and submerge yet deeper into the darkness. Krillin knelt down and took a precarious seat, taking great care not to lose his balance on the edge of the car's body, which now supported his weight from outside. There he sat, and waited for the guard's search to end.  
  
A loud slam resonated through the bodywork of the vehicle, giving Krillin an unpleasant jolt in the backside. The guard had finished his thorough examination of the trunk, and was now headed round to Krillin's side of the car. The fighter gritted his teeth and held his breath once more as the rustling of the guard's feet amid the grass became more pronounced. Then silence fell, as the demon drew up directly alongside him.  
  
"I've checked the car, sir, and it's clean." The demon's muffled voice came from beyond the boundaries of Krillin's hiding place.  
  
"Finally." King Yemma sighed in response, "Now, let me through."  
  
"I'm, um. afraid I can't do that. sir." The demon said, hesitantly.  
  
"Damn it, what now!?" Yemma shrieked, a sentiment he shared with the individual who, unbeknownst to him, was concealed on his person.  
  
"I afraid I'll have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, sir. The regulations are quite clear that no one should be allowed access beyond this point without a thorough check of their vehicle and person. " The guard informed Yemma.  
  
Krillin whimpered worriedly under his breath. Discovery now seemed assured. He sat in the darkness, and awaited the inevitable.  
  
"Agh! Forget the goddamn search!" Yemma exclaimed, to the demon's surprise and to Krillin's delight, "Just let me through!"  
  
"B-but sir, the regulations." the demon stuttered before being cut off.  
  
"Those are my regulations and I say forget them! Now let me in before I get really mad!" Yemma commanded.  
  
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." The demon replied submissively.  
  
His words were followed the crackling of grass stems as he trotted off through the pasture to carry out his orders.  
  
The relief that Krillin felt was beyond words. At that moment, he would happily have proclaimed his love for the monstrous King Yemma and planted a big kiss on his hair-shrouded lips. For now the fighter remained undiscovered, and was free to continue on his adventure.  
  
The whisper of the grass around the creature's feet gradually succumbed to attenuation by the cotton walls that surrounded Krillin, and for a short time, he was left to reside within the darkness with only the soft rumble of King Yemma's breath for company. Then, from the world beyond came the sharp squealing of grinding metal. Krillin quickly realised that this was the sound of the barrier being raised, its hinge shrieking as if outraged at having been disturbed from its rest. The whining hinge was then pacified by a resounding thump as the barrier reached its zenith.  
  
A low growl shook the vehicle's metal shell as the engine was revived from dormancy. It turned over for a few seconds, warming up in preparation for use, then quivered as the motor applied a single, deliberate effort to heave itself and its cargo up from its resting place.  
  
Krillin was given a second sharp kick in the rear end as the car shifted suddenly beneath him. Fearing that he may lose his balance, he placed his hands against the bottom of the pocket and did his best to grasp the wide edge of the door with his stubby fingers.  
  
"Okay, sir." The guard's voice came from outside, almost too muffled for Krillin to hear, "You're good to go."  
  
The fighter felt a shift in his momentum as the vehicle lurched forward.  
  
"Have a nice day, sir." The demon said as the car passed him by.  
  
King Yemma's response may have been inaudible to the security guard, but Krillin's proximity to the vexed ogre allowed him to hear every obscenity uttered.  
  
The busy whirring of an anonymous mechanism, sounding much like the industrious strains of hydraulics suddenly drowned out the muttering of the perturbed King Yemma. The sound was emanating from all around, and defied Krillin's attempts to localise its source.  
  
Krillin cast his gaze to the thin slither of pink sky that peeked down at him from above, in the hope of finding a clue as to what was going on outside. However, what little light had previously trickled down to the fighter quickly dried up as an ominous shadow drew across the narrow opening of the pocket.  
  
The diligent labouring of the hydraulics continued to fill the air for a few moments longer, before coming to an end with a finalising clank. For a few disorienting moments, all that Krillin could sense was the steady movement of the vehicle, and the toiling of its engine. The latter of these was now amplified, as if it was resonating between acoustic barriers.  
  
Something skimmed across the outskirts of Krillin's vision. At first, the fighter thought it may have been a trick of his senses, but then it came again, and again. The phenomena took the form of short flashes of soft, tangerine light. The origins of these flashes were lights fixed to the ceiling of the covered road that the vehicle travelled. At regular intervals, bands of the delicate illumination would scan across the floor of the pocket, temporarily revealing the contours of the creased cotton. All evidence pointed to travel through a tunnel.  
  
With the pressure of evading capture having slightly abated, Krillin was free to take in the sensations that came with his unusual surroundings. For one, the cavity was very warm, deriving its high temperature and humidity from the heat generated by the massive body of King Yemma. Also, there was a strong smell about the place. As Krillin settled down to the journey, the odour began to force itself more vehemently on his olfactory sense. Sweet and sickly, the pungency of the aroma was enhanced by the warmth of the atmosphere.  
  
"Ugh. It smells like two hundred year old cheese in here." Krillin commented quietly to himself.  
  
Leaning back he placed his hands down behind his back to support his body. However while his left hand met with the firm, cotton-quilted surface of the car, his right met with a soft, smooth object. It was also dull to the touch, being similar in temperature to Krillin's hand.  
  
The fighter cringed, but allowed his hand to linger on whatever it was he had found. Then, he plucked up his courage and gingerly wrapped his fingers around it. Krillin brought the object before himself, but found that the glancing amber light emanating from outside was inadequate for an examination. Thus, he raised his left hand, and channelled some of his energy to it. The result was a cool, ice blue glow that bathed the fighter's surroundings. Straining his eyes in the gentle illumination, Krillin saw he was holding a misshapen object wrapped in cellophane, and adorned with a circular label. Upon the label were printed the words, 'Elysium Mature Cheddar, Best Before: Aug 02 1805'.  
  
"Gross!" Krillin rasped, trying to keep his exclamation down to a whisper "I guess he skipped lunch."  
  
Krillin then tossed the rancid dairy product back into the darkness from whence it had come.  
  
The opportunity afforded by the darkness of the tunnel, and unsanitary conditions in King Yemma's pocket, were enough to convince Krillin that it was time to leave. As before, the fighter drew upon the minimum of his ki that was required, and carefully set about picking himself from the ogre's pocket. Slowly, he rose from his seat, and began to emerge from hiding. On surfacing his sweat moistened face was met by a stream of cool air. Taking a slow, deliberate breath through his nose, Krillin purged the remnants of the unwholesome smell of rotten cheddar from his nostrils.  
  
Once free of the pocket, Krillin cast a wary glance at King Yemma. The ogre was fixated with the dimly lit road ahead. Leaning forward and glaring over the windshield, his was an expression of complete concentration. Gliding around behind Yemma, Krillin reclaimed his old perch on the rear bumper of the car.  
  
The tunnel, through which the car travelled, though clearly artificial, seemed to be makeshift. The ground was dusty and littered with gravel that was flicked into the air by the turning of the wheels against the road, appearing as sparks leaping from a grinding wheel as they were accentuated by the amber light. The tunnel arched about twenty feet over head, its coarseness of its walls suggesting that they had been hurriedly ground away. The circular lights fixed to the ceiling were strung together by a thick cord that leapt in upside down arcs between each fitting. Though the air in the cavernous burrow was musty and stale, it was still preferable to that within King Yemma's pocket.  
  
Krillin watched as the chain of lights ran overhead and then faded in to the far reaches of the tunnel. In the distance, the road appeared to curl upwards, giving the impression that the cave had been dug at a slight inclination. The fighter realised that he was being swallowed down into the depths of the other dimension. He could only guess what he would find in its belly.  
  
The journey wore on, and Krillin found himself playing games in his mind. He occupied his time with counting the lights as they flashed by, or attempting to estimate the speed of the car from the time taken to travel between the lights and his best guess at their separation. But before he could reach a solution, his attention was wrestled from his mental arithmetic by an approaching noise.  
  
The sound grew in volume, revealing itself as a churning cacophony raised voices and labouring machinery. As the car travelled deeper into the bowels of heaven the sound filled the tunnel, flooding every corner of the passage and drowning out the grumbling of the car's engine.  
  
Just as the racket was reaching its tumultuous peak, the light in the tunnel began to shift in hue. A brilliant white light that radiated from in front of the car was diluting the soft orange tone of the illumination.  
  
Krillin shuffled over to the left hand side of the fender, and peered around the corner of the vehicle. He found the car was closing in on a bend in the tunnels path from around which the white radiance originated. Within a few seconds the turn was upon him, and the car rounded the corner and penetrated the light.  
  
The din of voices and machinery assaulted his ears as his eyes were attacked by the brilliant glare. With his senses under siege from all sides, Krillin was at first unable to assess this new environment.  
  
The car slowed down and finally came to rest, dropping to earth with a rattle of loosened components that was quickly engulfed in the surrounding racket. It took a few seconds for Krillin's eyes to desensitise themselves enough so that opening them did not result in searing pain.  
  
Squinting hard and sheltering his vision from the severe light level with his hand, Krillin began to examine his surroundings. The fighter could make out the darkened arch through which he had entered. It appeared to be carved from the wall of an even larger cave.  
  
Krillin pushed himself from the fender and dropped to the floor. He then began to tip-toe around the rear of the car, all the time inching his eyes further and further open as he tested his threshold of ocular discomfort. However, the images he perceived were blanched and poorly defined. Stopping for a moment, he waited for his eyes to become acclimatised. Once he was satisfied that his sight was unimpaired, he peered out across the cavern. What the fighter saw, he summed up in a single word,  
  
"Woah." 


	8. Broken

It was vast, reaching hundreds of meters away from where Krillin stood. The cavern sprawled outwards, and towered upwards, its unbelievable scale dwarfing all that it contained. Arcing passageways were carved at regular intervals around its wall, much the same as that through which he had entered. Looming metal frames supporting massive arrays of floodlights stood around the edge of the site, casting a brilliant gaze down upon the busy scene below. However, even their dazzling illumination could not penetrate the darkness that hung above. So tall was the cave that the roof lay hidden from view, veiled by a threatening gloom that rested upon supports of light like a grim fresco.  
  
Across the far-reaching floor of this great, subterranean hall, an industrious population of demons of various forms and dress went about their business. From labourers in orange overalls and hard-hats, to supervisors with suits and clipboards, some on foot, and others operating small carts or mechanised leviathans, all seemed to have their own vital tasks to which they must attend.  
  
However, the true subject of Krillin's astounded utterance, and the likely focus of the ocean of activity, was located at the far side of the cavern. In the distant face of the furthermost wall there was a gaping fissure. A good two hundred meters in width, its gently curving boundaries reached up from the ground and faded into the darkness above. At the heart of the pitch black void was suspended a huge golden dragons head, itself measuring at least fifty metres in diameter. The fearsome sculpture was frozen in the act of a horrifying roar, baring rows of dagger-like teeth. The eyes of the auric beast were crafted from flawless, fire-red rubies that blazed in the brilliant artificial light with every bit as much fury as eyes of the eternal dragon itself.  
  
The substantial mass of the sculpture appeared to be supported by tendrils of lightning that that arced between it and the periphery of the fissure. Tethered to the statue at one end the streams of power whipped and thrashed continuously, their extremities tracing around the edge of the void.  
  
The magnificent sculpture reminded Krillin of the ornate button that was set into the wall near the service desk of the office building. As he beheld the astonishing spectacle, he pondered the significance of all of this.  
  
There was a metallic wailing as King Yemma made a bid to dislodge himself from his under sized vehicle. The sound was a sharp reminder to Krillin that he was now out in the open. Ducking back behind the car, the fighter kept a watchful eye on the ogre as he struggled to free himself. With his hands grasping either door, Yemma wriggled his gargantuan rump to-and-fro. The towering pink wall that was the King's back squirmed from side to side as he attempted to pull himself out of the driving position as if trying to remove a tight fitting item of clothing. The vehicle itself rocked from side to side as King Yemma shifted his weight about. With a grunt of effort, Yemma finally liberated himself, then reached his right leg over the door and disembarked.  
  
Now standing along side the vehicle, he brought both of his huge hands up to his chest and beat the dust from his garments. He then turned and leaned over the door of the car and out of Krillin's view. There followed a short period of rustling as the ogre searched for some anonymous object.  
  
"Where is that damn. . ." Yemma muttered, ".ah ha!"  
  
The ogre then emerged grasping a small yellow object in his right hand, which he then raised towards his head. It was a hardhat. The ogre raised the hat and placed it delicately on his head, in between his two protruding horns. Though it would have made for a roomy fit on an average human, the hardhat did little to shield King Yemma's massive cranium.  
  
Guess they don't make 'em in his size; Krilllin thought to himself as he watched the ogre carefully balancing the hat on his head, then remembering the inadequate size of the car, he added; Guess they don't make a lot of stuff in his size.  
  
With the hardhat now perched precariously on the crown of his head, King Yemma began to amble away from the car. A few tens of meters away in the direction he was headed stood a large metal staircase bolted to the side of the cavern wall. The stairs ran parallel to the wall and culminated in a square metal platform that lay at the foot of a door.  
  
As Yemma walked towards the staircase, the door at the top swung inwards and a human sized demon emerged into the cavern. The creature was dressed identically to those Krillin had scene at the offices of King Yemma, except that it was sporting a yellow hardhat.  
  
With King Yemma walking with his back turned, the fighter took the opportunity to slink around to the far side of the ogre's car.  
  
The demon stepped out of the doorway and up to the railing that ran around the platform and down the side of the staircase. Resting his hands on the rail, he surveyed the busy work site below. Scanning the cavern floor, he spotted King Yemma's approach, and proceeded to run down the stairs to meet his superior. Reaching the ground, the demon began to trot across the cave floor in an urgent half-run-half-walk. He bore an expression of seriousness that was tempered by raised eyebrows, taking some of the edge of the otherwise concerned facial cast.  
  
The two strange individuals met around half way between the car and the stairs and exchanged greetings. They then became immersed in a conversation over matters that, from the expressions of the two, Krillin guessed were of significant gravity.  
  
Krillin strained his ears in an effort to eves drop on the exchange. The fighter had little luck however, as the creatures' words were totally lost amid a bustling throng of sounds that mixed and mingled throughout the volume of the cave. Realising that his attempts to glean information were in vain, he turned his attention back to the remarkable spectacle that lay at the far end of the cave.  
  
The magnificent dragon's head was not standing as a sentry across the face of the yawning opening alone. At the foot of the fissure stood a towering scaffold that reached upwards towards the glistening statue, its very tip falling agonisingly short of the figure's splendour as the hand of humanity reaching for the unattainable goal of divinity. Atop the temporary structure stood a handful of tiny figures, almost too distant to resolve. The figures shifted about on the dizzying platform, apparently attending to some sort of maintenance of the statue.  
  
Krillin's curiosity was becoming unbearable. He had to know what this object was and what was its significance. Turning slowly, he scanned the cave for any clues as to its purpose. All manner of objects and individuals fell within his view, but the same cryptic theme seemed to run throughout the site. From the bright orange overalls of the labouring demons that roamed the cave, to the grubby yellow carapaces of the hulking machinery that toiled beneath the unnatural glare of the floodlights, all bore the same crest. A two-dimensional representation of the dragon's head, printed in jet black, adorned almost all objects and persons.  
  
Krillin continued to scour the area. As his search brought him around through one hundred and eighty degrees, he began to loose hope of ever finding out what was going on around him. Just as he was about to surrender the hunt, his eyes fell across something of interest. A large, white, rectangular sign was nailed to the wall next to the opening through which he had entered the cave earlier. The sign also bore the fearsome dragon emblem and below this, printed in black, were a greeting and a set of regulations.  
  
Welcome To The Seal Chamber Please observe the following rules  
  
Hardhat to be worn at all times No smoking No running No littering Ball games are strictly prohibited  
  
"The seal." Krillin muttered under his breath.  
  
He then swung around, and looked to the distant Dragon's head once more.  
  
That must be the seal. what ever that is; he thought.  
  
Indeed, the artefact did appear to be the focus of the chamber. But still, what was this object sealing? And how was it connected to the strange happenings above ground? A number of questions still remained.  
  
There was a muffled chattering from beyond the car. King Yemma and his companion were heading back in Krillin's direction. As they approached, their raised voices began to surface above the maelstrom of ambient sounds. Krillin listened closely for further information.  
  
"I'm sorry it's taking so long, but it can't be helped." Yemma's voice boomed over the din, "We've got the tech guys working on a new one around the clock, but its gonna be a while yet before it's done."  
  
"I know." The demon replied, his less powerful tones struggling to stay afloat in the sea of noise, "But it's getting pretty desperate around here. The thing could go at any time."  
  
Krillin wasted little time in realising that the subject of their conversation was the seal.  
  
"Right, I'll see if I can't get the tech guys to speed things up." Yemma shouted, "You guys keep up the good work, for now. The last thing we need is more escapes."  
  
Escapes?; The gears and wheels of Krillin's mind were turning, processing the information they had been fed.  
  
The bad guys in his yard, the police pick up, the deserted fields, the delays at the check in station, all these things seemed to come back to the seal. And escapes. What was the meaning of Yemma's words? The ogres voice arose once again.  
  
"I mean if that thing breaks, then all hell will break loose. literally."  
  
There was Krillin's answer. He looked back at the imposing darkness that menaced from beyond the golden brilliance of the seal, and a chill raced the length of his spine. He was looking into hell. It made sense. The fighters that he had seen that day must have escaped due to whatever problems were plaguing the seal, which was apparently some mystical icon that was charged with the inconceivable task of containing the countless dark souls that inhabited the underworld.  
  
Faced with the chilling reality of what stood before him, the fighter's first instinct was to back off. Without thinking, Krillin began to edge backwards, away from the gates of hell and out of his hiding place.  
  
"Hey you! Where's your hard hat?!" the demon barked on spotting Krillin, apparently unaware that the fighter was not meant to be there.  
  
Krillin looked to the demon in horror. His gaze fell upon the creature and King Yemma just as the ogre looked up to see for himself the source of his subordinate's chagrin. On seeing the startled warrior, he craned his neck forwards and squinted slightly as he sifted through his vast memory banks in an effort to put a name to the face.  
  
"I know you." He stated, "You're the Earth-man, Krillin. What the hell do you think your doing here?! This place is strictly off limits to all but afterlife personnel!"  
  
Krillin floundered in the face of the harsh scolding he was receiving from the already intimidating Yemma.  
  
"Ahh! I, er, I was just." Krillin hesitated as he hastily gathered the words he required, "Well, there were these guys near my house fighting, then the police came and-and they said to go and see you, but then you weren't there and."  
  
The fighter's garbled explanation was cut short. From the far end of the cave came a resounding crash. The sound resonated throughout the cavern like the powerful crack of lightning going to ground.  
  
Krillin flicked his head to his left, where he again beheld the seal. There was something different about it. A brilliant white scar that ran diagonally across the seal's fearful countenance now marred what was once a flawlessly crafted example of metalwork. The figures that had been working at the base of the Seal were now beginning to descend down ladders that leaned upon the scaffold, and the vehicles, machinery and labourers that had toiled at its foot were now draining away.  
  
"O-o-o-h. I was afraid of this." The demon fretted upon seeing the cracking seal.  
  
"What's going on?! What's happening?!" Yemma shouted.  
  
"It's the seal. It's been so heavily patched up that it's become too weak to cope with the stress." The demon replied, "We're going to have to evacuate the chamber."  
  
There was a second crack, not quite as loud as the first. This time, Krillin watched in horror as the single crack blossomed into a sprawling tree of fissures that blighted all of the dragon's once exquisite features.  
  
The fracturing of the seal triggered a response from all over surrounding cave. The floodlights that had so dazzling illuminated the area began to dim, causing the darkness above to fall inwards towards the multitudes below. Moments later, ranks of sombre red lights were activated in a chain all around the wall of the cave. The crimson sentinels were acting as a monochromatic warning that was quickly seconded by a voice that spoke out over the PA.  
  
"Situation is red. Repeat: situation is red." The voice stated, "Will all personnel please leave the chamber in an orderly manner via the nearest exit."  
  
The work force began to leave their tasks and tools, and filter out of the cavern through the numerous tunnels that conjoined with the chamber, goaded onwards by the repeating message from the PA system.  
  
"Damn it!" King Yemma snarled, baring an impressive array of teeth, "We have to do something! That seal mustn't be allowed to break!"  
  
"I'm sorry sir, the situations irretrievable." The demon replied, "We should leave now."  
  
"But we can't just let them. . . spill out all over the place!" the ogre roared, his panic widened eyes still trained on the rapidly deteriorating seal.  
  
"Sir, It's no good! The best we can hope for is to get out and get ready to control the situation from above ground." The demon said, becoming frustrated with his stubborn superior.  
  
There was a tense rift in the exchange, filled only by the rumbling of King Yemma's quickened breath.  
  
"Agh! Very well!" Yemma submitted.  
  
He then turned to Krillin,  
  
"You! With me!" He shouted, still unhappy at the fighter's presence.  
  
With that, Yemma began to stride back towards his car.  
  
"Uh, right." Krillin agreed.  
  
The fighter then hopped back onto the bumper that had played host to him during his journey.  
  
The demon made his way back to his office, doubtless to an alternative route of escape. Yemma bounded up to the vehicle and hastily hoisted his giant left leg over the side. As he did, a new sound emerged above the urgent babbling of the departing crowds. An electrical crackling bounced from the walls of the cave. Krillin peered around the side of the car to ascertain the source of the sound.  
  
Once more, it was the seal that was producing the noises. The brilliant tendrils of lightening that had been supporting the seal at the heart of the opening in the wall were beginning to falter. In so doing, they produced a chorus of snapping and buzzing that rang out around the cavern. A sustained fizz followed, then the lightening failed.  
  
"Oh man, that can't be good." Krillin whined.  
  
The next few instants passed slowly. The seal, bathed in a blood red light, began to lean forwards, the enormous head bowing solemnly as if mourning its own end. The sculpture then kissed the top of the scaffold. It took a moment for the sound to reach Krillin after the meeting of the two. The cavern was then filled with the chilling wail of warping metal, which was joined by the cry of the planks and rods colliding with one another as the seal ploughed downwards through the structure. Debris from the buckling scaffold burst outwards under the pressure, and was strewn across the floor of the chamber in a violent precipitation. Then, with a terrible finality, the seal struck the ground amid a hail of steel and wood. However, rather than striking with a thunderous crash, the seal simply shattered. The breaking was almost silent, lost in the commotion of the collapsing scaffold. A mist of tiny golden shards burst from the point of impact. The fragments danced in the dim light for a few fleeting seconds, then faded away. The gates were open.  
  
A horrid feeling of anticipation hung over the cavern. Due to King Yemma's difficulties boarding his car, he and Krillin were among the few people remaining in the chamber. The fighter hopped anxiously from foot to foot willing the ogre's bulk into the driving seat.  
  
At first it was almost inaudible. A sound, rising gradually in volume, emanated from the darkness. Distant and wavering, it carried across the cool subterranean air like the tones of some far off choir.  
  
The sound triggered a reaction from Yemma. Krillin could he him almost whine with dread on hearing it, and his effort to wedge himself into the car was given fresh impetus. His accelerated endeavour caused the car to rock even more wildly than before, nearly throwing Krillin to the ground.  
  
The tones that were emerging from the gloom were now growing exponentially in volume. From the distant song of despair it evolved into a discordant chorus of tormented howls. It arose inexorably in intensity, building up to a soul freezing, ear splitting crescendo of voices that reached to every extreme of pitch. Though each of these voices lamented there own tale of eternal misery, all sang the same dark hymn of countless days spent in the ultimate darkness.  
  
The heinous song was mesmerising. Krillin ceased his fidgeting, and stared deeply into the depths of Hades. At the heart of the darkness, a point of light materialised. The tiny apparition began to expand. The fighter watched the star as it waxed, losing all perspective on the world around. All there were was the darkness, and the light.  
  
Krillin shook his head, breaking the spell that the rapidly expanding point had cast upon him. He then beheld the light once more, this time with a fresh, objective eye. It was then that he realised that what he was seeing was not a small object getting larger, but a distant object getting closer. Clambering onto the treacherous surface of the car's rear bodywork, he reached up and quite forcefully patted King Yemma on the back.  
  
"Hey!" He yelled over the still increasing din in an effort to obtain Yemma's attention.  
  
The ogre, still concentrating on the task of applying his ample frame to the car's interior, cast a sparing glance to the fighter.  
  
"What!" he bellowed in reply, his annoyance at Krillin still evident from his expression.  
  
Krillin leaned around the hulk, and pointed his left index finger towards the light at the centre of the void. Taking a breath, he prepared to ask a question to which, though he dared not admit it to himself, he knew the answer.  
  
"What's that?!"  
  
Yemma frowned, at least more so than usual, and cast his gaze along the line of Krillin's pointing. There was a short pause.  
  
"Holy sh." Yemma's cry of horror was lost amid the dreadful strains that now threaten to dismantle the very chamber itself.  
  
The light now filled half the area of the fissure, and was expanding fast. Without bothering to force the remainder of his rear into the seat, King Yemma started the vehicle's engine. Krillin slid back down onto the bumper, and braced himself for the escape.  
  
There was a roar that resonated through the car as it was awakened from its slumber. It turned over loudly as Yemma applied the maximum possible power in order to raise the car from the ground. It thundered with effort as it levitated, shouting its own strong desire to escape from harm's way.  
  
Krillin was hard pushed to maintain his grip as Yemma threw the car into an about face. He then gorged the engine with gas one last time. As he did this, Krillin took a glance over his shoulder. He wished he hadn't. The entire void was now alight with a brilliant glare. In an instant, the wall of light burst through the gates.  
  
Taking the form of a colossal jet of white flames, the light gushed forth from the opening in the chamber wall. The towering tsunami of souls surged across the cave, consuming the abandoned machinery as lunged hungrily towards the petrified fighter.  
  
With a mighty roar and a violent kick, the car flew into motion. It raced through the opening and swung through the turn, barely missing the far wall of the tunnel as it did. The vehicle then tore off down the tunnel, churning up a trail of dust in its haste.  
  
Krillin turned to see if they were still being pursued. He looked towards the receding end of the tunnel to see a shaft of light pouring through the exit on the left. There was a gust of warm air, as even the atmosphere seemed to want to flee the oncoming flood, then a plume of blazing white essence erupted into the tunnel. The torrent of spirits crashed against the opposite wall, and then turned its attention back towards the retreating car. Relentlessly the flood of souls rushed through the passage, devouring the walls and light fittings in its tireless pursuit.  
  
"C'mon! C'mon! It's gaining on us!" Krillin shouted, but his warning was quelled easily by the shrieking of the rapidly closing souls.  
  
Realising that his words were not reaching the equally distressed King Yemma, the fighter gritted his teeth and reluctantly resolved to put his faith in the ogre's prowess behind the wheel.  
  
As he watched the raging white-water of the spirits drawing ever nearer, Krillin wished dearly for the slightest bit of extra speed that might hasten their escape. It was then that he realised something.  
  
What the heck am I doing?; he thought; I'm faster than any car;  
  
Invigorated by his realisation, he raised himself from his seat and drew up all the ki he could muster. The very atmosphere around the fighter ignited, and he took the air.  
  
Manoeuvring himself behind the car, he placed his hands against the cold chrome bumper.  
  
"Hold on to your horns!" Krillin yelled to Yemma, unlikely though it was that he would hear.  
  
He then summoned all the energy he could possibly spare, and surged forwards, forcing the car along with him.  
  
Krillin supercharged the car's escape for some seconds before he could muster the courage to peer back over his shoulder. Swallowing hard, he peeked behind. However, his fears were confirmed as he saw that, though his donation of speed had slowed the advance of the spirits, they were still making up ground.  
  
Turning back to the rear of the car, Krillin dropped his sweat-drenched head and poured every ounce of strength he had into driving the vehicle forwards. So intense were his efforts that the fighter felt the uncontrollable urge to scream at the very top of his lungs. Alas, just as his lament was effortlessly consumed by the pandemonium that churned behind him, so too did Krillin's superhuman effort prove futile. His muscles burned, his head throbbed, and his heart was beating so fast that it seemed as if it might burst. Every inch and ounce of his being was fraught with fatigue. Everything he had, he had already given. There was nothing left.  
  
Krillin could feel the heated air washing over him as his hands slipped from the fender of the car. Though the temperature of the atmosphere was raised by the presence of the blazing souls, the spirits themselves seemed to radiate a strange coldness. It was this coldness that the fighter felt as the ravenous deluge consumed him.  
  
Within the essence was a churning whirlpool of pure emotion and undiluted thought. Krillin's mind was overrun by the vast array of feelings and contemplation. All the fear, hate, anger and malice of the ages bore down upon the fortifications of the fighter's mind until his own thoughts and those of the damned became indistinguishable. Finally, the fighter's consciousness surrendered, and sank into the seething caldron of malevolence.  
  
It was so cold. . .  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
Don't touch that remote! More 'Broken Seal' coming soon. . . 


	9. Ghosts

Krillin awoke with a hard gasp. Sitting bolt upright he dragged air into his lungs, one panicked inhalation after another. The world around him was a blinding cacophony of images that screamed at the disoriented fighter with every colour of the spectrum. Blinded and frightened, he had no idea of where he was or what had just happened.  
  
Shutting his eyes, Krillin initially concentrated on regaining control of his racing breath. He then cautiously began to open his eyes, but shut them an instant later, hissing with discomfort as he did. The fighter's surroundings were still blazingly bright and searing to his oversensitive eyes. A moment passed before he attempted to open them once more, this time he did so more tentatively.  
  
As his surroundings were revealed to him, Krillin became more and more calm. Able once more to reason, he deduced from the cool air and bright surroundings that he was outside. This conclusion was confirmed as his eyes became acclimatised, and Krillin once more found himself sitting amid the cool blue grasses of the infinite pastures. Around him, the blades swayed casually in the breeze, unconcerned with the fighter's ordeal.  
  
With the return of Krillin's senses, the flood of confusion that had immersed his mind began to subside revealing previously submerged memories of his final moments before losing consciousness. The cave, the seal. the souls. He remembered vaguely the short time spent amid the raging river of spirits, but it all seemed distant, as if he was recalling the experience on behalf of someone else.  
  
"How many times can a guy get K.O'ed in one day?" Krillin sighed, now in full control of his faculties.  
  
With that, Krillin hauled his body up from the ground. Though he had been robbed of his consciousness, again, this time it had differed markedly from the last. Whilst he had arisen dazed and groggy from his previous bout insensibility, this time he had awoken with a start. It had had taken little time for him to regain his orientation, and now that he was on his feet, he felt little the worse for wear. In fact, his contact with the untainted essences of those who had been bound in hell by the seal had proven strangely invigorating.  
  
Looking about the still deserted landscape, Krillin recollected yet more of the events that had led up to this moment. It was with the return of these harrowing memories that he was suddenly overcome with concern for the numerous demons that had evacuated the chamber shortly before the seal had given way, not least of all King Yemma.  
  
Turning circles on the spot, the fighter frantically scoured the panorama for signs of life. His preliminary search turned up nothing. Krillin composed himself once more, and applied some careful thought to the worrying situation.  
  
From the few ragged memories that he had retained, and from his current position, Krillin concluded that hell's escaping population had thrown him clear of the entrance to the subterranean complex. Since he had come into close contact with the fleeing souls, it seemed fair to assume that he had experienced the worst that his and Yemma's predicament had to offer. The inference of this was that, if Krillin had come through the ordeal unscathed, then there was more than a good chance the mighty King Yemma had also escaped harm.  
  
Looking to the distant horizon, Krillin decided that his best course of action would be to return to the offices of King Yemma. This was, after all, the centre of operations for the afterlife and, as such, would be the most likely location of the ogre at such a time of emergency. Here he might be able to learn more of the bizarre events that had transpired, and perhaps offer his own modest help in doing whatever was required to set right this destabilised realm.  
  
Unfortunately, Krillin had no way of knowing how far he would have to travel in order to reach his destination. Having been unable to find the barrier that had marked the entrance to the tunnels, the fighter had no landmarks from which to regain his bearings. Though direction meant little in this place, distance still counted for something. Seeing little sense in wasting any more time, Krillin drew up his rejuvenated ki and took flight.  
  
It seemed that with every journey he made across the inconceivably vast other-world, the plane became ever more deserted, and ever more forbidding. The sound of sirens was now constant, the klaxons shrieking endlessly at the horrors they were. A bass percussion of explosions accompanied these sharp cries. Each roll of distant thunder corresponded to a sudden swell in the permeating oceans of energy, which themselves become a heaving tempest that were now tossing and crashing beyond Krillin's ability to accurately navigate. There was so much energy out there, and so much of it was dark.  
  
However, it was not the shrill lament of sirens, or the distant rumbling of destruction, or even the blackened, polluted seas of power that was most disturbing to Krillin. Instead, it was the most subtle, almost inaudible sound that carried on the ill breeze that unsettled the fighter most. For across the meadows and hills, barely audible above the concerto of wrath and destruction, came the feeble cries of anguish of innocents caught amid the fearful events that were transpiring all over this once tranquil plane.  
  
Krillin tried his best to concentrate on the task in hand. He had to reach King Yemma if he was to offer his help in putting everything right. However, he was finding it difficult to block out the fretful wails of the countless victims. Krillin never could bare the thought of an innocent suffering. Every panicked scream, every agonised shriek, every cry for help was like a knife through the heart of the good warrior. And what was more, this situation, this feeling, was all too familiar. All his senses seemed to be dragging him, kicking and screaming, back to his days on Namek. There he had been bombarded with the sights and sounds of evil having its way with the helpless, and it was no more tolerable to him now than it was then. The moment that the damned had escaped from the pit had been the moment that Krillin had been plunged into his own personal hell.  
  
C'mon Krillin; the fighter thought to himslef; Eyes on the prize.  
  
The fighter shook his head, as if shooing away the distressing sounds that buzzed around his head like a frenzied swarm of insects. As he did this, he set about convincing himself that his best chance to help the ill-fated denizens of heaven would be to supply his services to the powers-that-be. After all, what could a single fighter do in the face of an entire dimension of suffering?  
  
Krillin was making a healthy pace across the skies. He was not travelling as fast as he was capable of doing however, as he was reluctant to attract the attention of any unsavoury characters who might be near by. The throbbing of the energies was not helping either, as the fighter found it hard to pinpoint any one ki. As things stood, the first Krillin would know about a strong fighter's approach would be when the warrior appeared in front of him.  
  
Krillin felt a rush of warm air wash over his face. His heart sank.  
  
A blur manifested before Krillin, causing the startled fighter to freeze in his tracks. His widening eyes struggled to define the image in the instants before it fully revealed itself. A second later, there was a human-like figure suspended ominously in the air before him. If Krillin's heart could have descended any further, then it would have done just that as the sickening sense of recognition crawled across the warrior's mind.  
  
Before Krillin there floated a tall, well built individual, draped in the regalia of Frieza's legions, and adorned with all manner of ornamentation. Several spherical decorations were suspended around a chillingly handsome face, which itself was rendered in a soft shade of greenish blue. A loose plat of grass green hair was draped untidily over the figure's shoulder with a number of individual hairs displaced from their proper position. Behind the fighter there trailed a ragged, battle worn cape that brushed against his calves. His ruffled appearance was doubtless a result of a time spent immersed in the savageries of hell.  
  
In the shadow of this awful ghost from his past, Krillin mustered a single, stammered utterance.  
  
"Z-Zarbon."  
  
Looking down upon Krillin with a cruel smirk, the Zarbon spoke.  
  
"Hello there." He greeted the quivering fighter in a smooth tone, "I thought I recognised you. You're the little Earth man who was with Vegeta on Namek."  
  
With a single, lightening movement, he grabbed a handful of Krillin's Tunic. Slowly, he drew the fighter in. To surprised to react, Krillin had little recourse but to capitulate.  
  
"Well," Zarbon continued, "any friend of Vegeta's. . . is a friend of mine."  
  
With those ominous words, Frieza's chief henchman began to raise a hand towards Krillin's worried face. Like a deadly, blossoming flower, the fighter's fingers spread outwards in readiness to dispense a close range attack.  
  
Though Krillin had grown in strength considerably while on Namek, he was still no match for the cruel Zarbon. Also, all those months spent idol in heaven had not helped his power level either. Fearing that the villain may be seeking some indirect retribution for his dispatch at the hands of the Saiyan prince, Krillin managed to find some words that he hoped might work in his defence.  
  
"Hey, now." He laughed, nervously, "Lets not be hasty. Remember, you can't destroy me. I'm already dead."  
  
At that, Zarbon's hand ceased its climb towards Krillin's sweat saturated head. For a moment, it looked like the fighter's words may have earned him a reprieve. There was a pause, but then the evil warrior's wicked smile broadened in such away that it made Krillin's blood run cold in his veins.  
  
"Well then," Zarbon smiled, "I suppose I shall just have to devote my eternity to making yours a waking nightmare."  
  
His hand then resumed its ascent to the fighter's face.  
  
Whimpering with dread at the aeons of despair that might lie ahead, Krillin closed his eyes tightly and prepared for the agony that would certainly follow. From behind the inadequate protection of his closed eyelids, he could here the mocking laughter of the wicked Zarbon as he prepared to satisfy his sadistic urges. As the laughter grew in volume, Krillin could feel Zarbon's ki building, reaching for a zenith that would mark the beginning of an eternity of damnation for the petrified fighter.  
  
Then the heat came. This too rose in intensity as Zarbon drew up the energy for his attack, as if he was slowly cooking Krillin over some hellish stove. The whole process seemed to be drawn out, but even though the severity of the situation had probably altered the fighter's perception of the passage of time, it was also probable that his captor was deliberately taking his time. In so doing, he sought to torture Krillin mentally as well as physically.  
  
Zarbon's ki reached a plateau, and Krillin gritted his teeth. There was a bright flash that emanated from beyond Krillin's drawn eyelids, and a sudden blast of intense heat. Both engulfed the terrified fighter along with a heart-stopping roar, the sound of a monstrous ki being set loose upon its victim. Somehow, though, it did not seem as unpleasant as he had expected. Still mortally, and immortally scared, Krillin kept his eyes closed for fear that perhaps Zarbon had yet to unleash his wrath. Still, the pain never arrived.  
  
A short time passed before Krillin realised that the light, heat, sound and Zarbon's ki were all falling in intensity. Tentatively, he began to open his eyes. The first thing he noticed as he was greeted by the surrounding world was that Zarbon was no longer clinging to his garments. In fact, the nefarious fighter was nowhere to be seen. Krillin looked about cautiously, still not convinced that he was not being toyed with. There was still no sign of Zarbon. Then, he looked down.  
  
There, at the heart of a smouldering crater, lay Zarbon. The fighter was sprawled out, face down, apparently himself the victim of a devastating assault. Krillin looked down upon the baffling scene. For a moment, the thought occurred to him that perhaps he had perpetrated the act, unleashing some hidden strength in his time of greatest fear a la the young warrior Gohan. The thought was then banished as quickly as it had been conceived. Krillin pondered the occurrence for a little longer before he could wind of a soft sound, a barely audible grunt, emanating from above him.  
  
Casting his gaze upwards, Krillin found the source of the sound. Above him hung a second figure, silhouetted against the bright pink firmament. From within the darkened form of this enigmatic apparition was extended a single arm, ending in a white-gloved hand. A thin wisp of vapour rose from the exposed palm of the glove, evidently the source of the attack that had floored Zarbon.  
  
Krillin squinted, and attempted to decipher the features of his saviour. As he did so, the being's appearance was gradually divulged to him. He, like Zarbon, was tall and well built. His head, however, was crowned by a burst of dark hair that erupted from above a tall forehead. Beneath this was a pair of dark, glaring eyes, which looked down to their stricken prey from within a regal face that itself refused to turn downward. This individual too was familiar to Krillin. Squinting yet more, and craning his neck forwards, the puzzled fighter made a quiet inquiry.  
  
"Vegeta?"  
  
The figure's eyes met with Krillin's. The intensity of the stare was almost a devastating attack in itself. Still refusing to turn his head downwards, the fighter replied in a contemptuous tone,  
  
"That's King Vegeta to you." 


	10. Knock Knock

Krillin made no attempt to hide his amazement. Looking on with eyes wide and jaw hanging, he stared yet deeper into the ghostly form that hovered before him.  
  
As the enigmatic fighter faded in from near black, his familiar features began to assert themselves. Indeed, this individual bore a startling resemblance to the caustic prince Vegeta. However, as the similarities argued in favour of Krillin's original theory, the dissimilarities began to raise a valid counterpoint.  
  
This Vegeta seemed larger in stature than that he had seen go to his death on Namek. Also, the hair, though dark, was not the jet-black crest he was familiar with, but rather a deep brown one. These features did present a convincing case, but it was the face of the man that had the final word. The area around the fighter's small, taut mouth was shrouded beneath a ruffled goatee. Furthermore, this face was not the portrait of anger and arrogance, charged with the energy of youth that Krillin had known. This was the face of a man advanced in age both physically and mentally. His skin clung closely to the hard-edged bone structure that lay beneath, and lines that ran parallel above piercing eyes accentuated the contours of his forehead.  
  
The fighter's garments were also similar to those of the Vegeta that Krillin knew. A thick blue overall clung tightly to the King's musculature, and his chest was bound in an artificial carapace of off-white and tan coloration. In contrast however, the breastplate, dented and cleaved, bore several tarnished fragments of metallic ornamentation. Possibly the remnants of what was once royal finery, these broken decorations now merely served as fair warning to any who might dare run afoul of the authorities of this world.  
  
One particular decoration caught Krillin's eye. A broach, rendered in hues of tainted gold, and mimicking the splendour of a mighty starburst in form, though not in lustre, was applied at the King's right shoulder blade. From around its dull, metal corona protruded a small shred of crimson fabric. This was probably the remains of a dramatic cape, long since claimed by the torments of the world below.  
  
Even if Krillin couldn't be sure of the fighter's true identity, there was one thing that was quite apparent. Though he was clearly a formidable warrior, this man was little more than a battered remnant of his former, resplendent self.  
  
Then, it hit him. King Vegeta.  
  
Up until this point, Krillin had been unable to identify this new fighter, having been thrown off by his title. Now however, it was the pairing of the familiar name and the unfamiliar designation that had stirred a memory from the recesses of his mind. He was reminded of the story with which Frieza had regaled him and Gohan during their stint on Namek. It had been with that anecdote that the frightful monster had sought to enrage Vegeta into an attack; the story of the destruction of the Saiyan's father at the vile tyrant's wicked hand.  
  
Krillin's thoughtful expression dissolved seamlessly into a reiterative cast of astonishment. Was this the character that had figured so prominently in Frieza's story? Was this the monarch who's end had marked the downfall of one of the most formidable warrior races ever to have prowled the universe? Could this truly be the deceased patriarch of prince Vegeta?  
  
Aghast, Krillin drew breath with the intention of fielding a question, though he did not yet know what that question would be. However, he refrained as he realised that King Vegeta's attention was no longer focused on him. The monarch's piercing eyes were now directed towards the fuming hollow that cradled the comatose Zarbon.  
  
"Foul minion of Frieza." He growled, "If only you were not already dead."  
  
From the hateful tone of his words, it was clear that his only regret at having scorched the corrupt fighter was that the strike had not been a deathblow.  
  
Krillin too was now gazing down upon the strangely restful looking warrior. The sight filled him with apprehension, as he wondered how long it would be before he came around. Krillin dared not speculate as to his disposition upon waking.  
  
"You!"  
  
Krillin's thoughts were interrupted by the coarse tones of the Saiyan's voice. Whipping his gaze upwards, he met the fearsome gaze of King Vegeta with a renewed trepidation.  
  
"You will take me to the Ogre who rules this place!" the King commanded.  
  
Krillin swallowed in a laboured manner before answering. It seemed that this Vegeta was no more compromising than the one he had known in life. Scraping together what few seconds he thought he could afford before the King lost his patience, he debated the wisdom of taking him to where he wanted to go. After all, there was little doubt that he had originated from the same unholy realm as Zarbon, and there was no telling what his motives were. On the other hand this man had just saved him, if not in life, then in soul. For that, Krillin did owe the regal fighter something.  
  
Krillin resolved to take Vegeta to King Yemma, deciding that if there were going to be a problem it would be nothing the formidable ogre couldn't handle. Besides, Yemma must have dealt with Vegeta before.  
  
"Er, sure.okay." Krillin replied, meekly.  
  
He then paused for a split second, leaving space for some thanks from the sovereign. Then, realising he was fighting a losing cause, he continued,  
  
"Um, this way."  
  
He then gestured towards the horizon. Warily, Krillin turned from Vegeta and slowly cruised away. As he coasted off towards Yemma's office, he could feel the energy of the King as he engaged in a passive pursuit.  
  
It seemed that Vegeta was not aware of how to get to where one was going on this plane, apparently believing that direction was still a factor in navigation here. Though Krillin knew this not to be the case, he continued on regardless, having decided that it was in his best interest not to instruct the King in this technique, thus preventing Vegeta from rushing off ahead of him. After all, he needed all the backup he could get.  
  
As the two made their way to the offices of King Yemma, Krillin began to reanalyse the events that had just transpired with a cool mind. The one thing that stood out from the limited exchange he had had with Vegeta was the fact that the King seemed unconcerned at the fact that he knew his name, even though neither he nor Zarbon had themselves spoken it. Krillin was soon able to rationalise this, however. With Vegeta having been King of a race that had terrorised an entire universe, it was certain that there were many plebeians who knew him by name, and reputation, without ever having set eyes upon him.  
  
One other thing struck him as odd, though. If this man had truly been a mighty ruler of entire worlds, where was his entourage? Where were all the escorts, servants and general hangers-on that one might expect to see trailing royalty? He thought that perhaps hell would take some toll on their numbers, but there wasn't even so much as a body guard in sight. With almost the entire race having been destroyed simultaneously, there was a fair chance that those who had been condemned, and that would probably have been most of them, had all remained together. Nevertheless, these were not questions that Krillin would dare ask for fear that they might be perceived as disrespectful. The last thing he needed was another powerful fighter with a grudge against him.  
  
The journey was accompanied by the same unsettling sounds as before, but little else. King Vegeta was proving somewhat less talkative than his son, leaving Krillin with only distant detonations and cries of horror for company. Also, the fighter found it unnerving that Vegeta insisted on flying above him, staying out of his line of sight. More than once he had attempted to move up alongside the sovereign, but each time his attempts had been thwarted as Vegeta stubbornly retained his lofty position, above that which he obviously considered a subordinate.  
  
Being a patient soul, if nothing else, Krillin had let it go without fuss, simply assuming that it must be a 'King thing'. The awkward lack of discourse was now beginning to work slightly on the fighter's nerves, however. Goaded on by his need for amiable conversation to overcome his nervousness of Vegeta, he reluctantly chose to speak.  
  
"Um, thanks for helping me out back there." He said in the most inoffensive manner he could, "Things were starting to look a bit hairy there for minute."  
  
Krillin's words of thanks were met with a chilly silence that rivalled the cool breeze for frigidity. The fighter realised then that Vegeta was only going to speak to his 'inferior' if absolutely necessary, and only if it was he who initiated the exchange. Krillin gave some thought to bringing up the Saiyan's son as a talking point, but quickly dismissed the idea. He decided that it would not be wise, as he did not know whether the King was aware of what had become of the prince, nor did he know how Vegeta might react to hearing of his son's fate.  
  
Surrendering his short-lived pursuit of a discussion with the tight-lipped monarch, Krillin resigned himself to what would doubtless be a very long journey.  
  
Krillin drew a discrete sigh of relief as the imposing building that housed King Yemma's office emerged over the horizon, heralding the imminent end of his long, awkwardly quiet journey with King Vegeta.  
  
Krillin glanced up at Vegeta. The King was still cruising several meters above, and a few feet behind him. He did not return the fighter's glance.  
  
"We're almost there." Krillin informed Vegeta.  
  
The monarch gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but nothing more. Krillin looked back towards the approaching building, willing it towards him so that this painfully dull voyage might end.  
  
The scene that surrounded the palatial office buildings was somewhat different to what it had been the last time Krillin had visited. The long path that traced its way across the tidily mown courtyard was now empty. The shimmering souls that had queued for the attention of King Yemma, some more patiently than others, were nowhere to be seen. As well as the souls, the demon that had shepherded them was also gone. The building now stood alone, the huge metal rings on its doors staring out across the deserted gardens like lonely eyes searching for companionship with a poignant hopelessness.  
  
Krillin touched down on the concrete path at the office doors, the fall of his feet echoing weakly from the towering walls before him. From behind came the more pronounced sound of King Vegeta's boots striking the ground.  
  
Krillin paused briefly, and looked back towards Vegeta. The regal fighter did not meet his gaze. Instead he stood motionless, chest out and straightened arms pointing at the ground with tightly clenched fists, looking up at the looming doorway. His proud posture made him a picture of irony, a noble figure draped in modest rags.  
  
It appeared that Vegeta expected Krillin to knock for attention, and it did not appear that he believed he should have to ask for this favour. Turning away with a weary sigh, Krillin stepped up to the door. Though Vegeta's superior mannerisms had previously been somewhat intimidating to the fighter, they were now becoming tiresome.  
  
Raising a clenched fist, Krillin rapped gently on the varnished surface of the door. This resulted in a bass rumble that resonated through the thick wood. Startled, the fighter quickly retracted his hand, taken aback as the pitch and volume of the sound were in stark contrast to the careful strikes he had made. He waited a few seconds as the rumble dispersed through the thick woodwork. There was no answer. Stepping up to the door once more, Krillin struck it several times, this time with a little more impetus. His knocking again went unanswered.  
  
Krillin was about to make his third attempt to attract some attention, when he felt a pressure on his right shoulder. Before he had the opportunity look down to inspect its source, the pressure increased dramatically.  
  
"Step aside!" Vegeta snarled, sweeping the surprised fighter away with his right hand.  
  
Krillin reeled to his right under the force, tripping upon his own heels as he went. After having half staggered, half run several meters, the fighter regained his balance.  
  
"Hey!" he barked at the presumptuous monarch, forgetting in that moment of anger who was the stronger of the two.  
  
His protest went deliberately unnoticed, however.  
  
Vegeta now stood before the doors, glaring up at them with an indignant frown. He raised a clenched fist, and drove it against the unsuspecting portal. The lament of the quivering wood rang out across the courtyard, its intensity causing the rigid concrete beneath Krillin's feet to throw a mild fit. The thundering vibrations were long lived, persisting for some seconds before finally settling down.  
  
There followed several seconds of silence. The lack of response to Vegeta's pounding of the door gave Krillin some measure of satisfaction. He watched with quiet gratification as the King became increasingly perturbed by his failed bid for attention.  
  
Vegeta raised his hand once more, and assaulted the defenceless door with an increased fervour, the roar of the convulsing wood relaying his desire for an audience King Yemma. Again, his efforts went unanswered.  
  
Krillin's enjoyment of Vegeta's chagrin was beginning to waver as he could sense his rage building. Cautiously, he began to approach Vegeta, Fearing for what the incensed King may do next.  
  
"Let me pass!" Vegeta demanded of whoever might be on the other side of the door, whilst simultaneously beating upon its surface.  
  
There was no reply.  
  
"Uh. . . maybe we should come back later." Krillin suggested, attempting to defuse Vegeta's explosive temper.  
  
However, as before, Vegeta had little time for the fighter's input.  
  
A few seconds elapsed as Vegeta continued to glare upwards at the door. He then looked down to the section of the door directly ahead. Krillin relaxed slightly, as it seemed the King may be ready to surrender, for now. He then sensed a change. It was Vegeta's ki. Krillin was overcome with apprehension once more as the Saiyan's energy began to swell. He retreated a step as Vegeta raised his hand in a deliberate and ominous manner, drawing his closed fist up as high as his shoulder, and then holding it in place.  
  
"I said. . . let me pass!" Vegeta roared.  
  
His forceful words corresponded to a sudden rush of power that surged from within the impatient king. In that instant, Vegeta's raised fist was engulfed in hissing blue aura, the warmth from which Krillin could feel even from his position several meters away. With a howl of uncontrolled frustration, Vegeta drove his hand forward.  
  
The sound that radiated from the point of impact almost shook Krillin from his feet as it tore through the air around him. It reverberated through every part of him, and caused his ears to issue sharp signals of pain. The fighter pressed his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to protect them.  
  
After a few painful seconds, the volume of the sound began to wane, gradually sinking down below an audible level. Cautiously, Krillin pulled his hands away from his ears, which still rang with the remnants of the impact. Relaxing his face from the grimace that it had been baring, he looked over at King Vegeta. The king now stood at the threshold of the door, breathing a little heavily after his outward display of displeasure. The door itself was open, having apparently yielded to Vegeta's less than gentle persuasion.  
  
Having granted himself some time to gather his composure, Vegeta strode across the threshold.  
  
"I guess we'll let ourselves in." Krillin muttered as the King disappeared out of sight.  
  
The fighter shrugged his shoulders, and followed suit.  
  
--------------------------------- The next chapter's going to be a fairly long one. After that, it'll be all brand spankin' new material. 


	11. Conscience and the Kings

Krillin peered gingerly around the doorframe. There he saw the back of King Vegeta, superimposed over the gargantuan form of King Yemma, who himself had his back turned. The former was leaning over the front of his mammoth desk, one hand pressed against its surface, and the other holding the lustrous, black receiver of his telephone to his head. It seemed that either he had ignored the raucous goings on of only moments earlier, or had been so engrossed in his conversation that he had not noticed it at all.  
  
Krillin proceeded carefully through the towering doorway, so as not to disturb King Yemma from his discourse. The doors were now wide open. Both bore dark scorch marks upon there otherwise untainted red paintwork, at about Vegeta's head height. The two defeated sentinels swung gently from their hinges, as if panting from the exertion of a battle lost. Looking about the office, Krillin was reminded of just how impressive and intimidating the scale of this place was. The room was the size of a large house, its off-white walls looming up on all sides. At the heart of the room stood Yemma's desk, itself the size of a small building, which seemed to look down in judgement upon the diminutively proportioned souls that stood before it.  
  
Krillin continued to move stealthily across the tiled floor, trying to quell the soft tapping of his shoes against the rigid surface.  
  
"King Yemma!" Vegeta called, "I would speak with you."  
  
Krillin winced, expecting an angry response from the ogre. Through squinting eyes, the fighter gazed up at Yemma. The demon didn't turn around. Instead, he raised his free hand from the desk, and waved away what for him was still an anonymous visitor. Krillin felt some measure of relief at this temperate response, but it was short lived.  
  
"King Yemma!" Vegeta persisted, "I must speak with you at once."  
  
At this, Krillin gave up his attempts to remain quiet. It was quite obvious that Vegeta intended to attract Yemma's attention regardless of how inopportune his timing.  
  
Yemma raised his free hand once more, this time placing the giant paw over the mouthpiece.  
  
"Not now!" he rasped, still not looking back to his addresser.  
  
He then continued with his conversation,  
  
"Yes . . . yes. . . I know. . . yes. I've already got every available officer on it. Yes. . . yes. . . no, I haven't got anyone spare. Look, just sit tight. If I get someone free I'll send 'em right over. Uh-huh. . . yeah. . ."  
  
"I will speak with you now!" Vegeta insisted, mid-flow of Yemma's exchange.  
  
"Could. . . could you just hold for a moment?" Yemma sighed into the receiver.  
  
He then placed his hand over the mouthpiece once more, and began to turn towards to Krillin and Vegeta.  
  
"Damn it!" He roared, "Can't you see I'm on the. . ."  
  
He stopped mid sentence as his eyes fell upon the two fighters. The look of anger he had displayed changed to one of surprise. Yemma then raised his hand from the receiver.  
  
"I'll call you back." He stated, and placed the receiver back atop the telephone.  
  
There was a slight resonance from the bell within the telephone as Yemma dropped the receiver onto the hook. The sound echoed around the cavernous office, unchallenged by any other noise as the three occupants of the room beheld one another in silence.  
  
Yemma's attention was focused on Vegeta. The look on the ogre's faced had changed from the initial one of surprise to one that was familiar to Krillin. It was the exact same look he had given the Earthman when he had first set eyes upon him in the seal chamber, an intensely pensive expression denoting deep concentration. Once again, the ogre was attempting to identify an individual from among the unimaginably vast throng of faces that were stored in his memory.  
  
Suddenly, his face altered its stance again. This expression too was familiar to Krillin, as were the words that followed,  
  
"What the hell are you doing here!" Yemma bellowed at Vegeta.  
  
Woah, deja vu; Krillin thought.  
  
He looked over at Vegeta. The King seemed unfazed by the raucous outburst, and continued to glare up at the fuming ogre.  
  
"I would speak with you, King Yemma." Vegeta stated, utilising the assertive yet diplomatic tone of one monarch addressing another.  
  
"Forget it!" Yemma roared, seemingly uninterested in the use of such formal tones, "I've had enough trouble off of your kind for one day! Now, out!"  
  
With that, King Yemma slung a huge finger forwards, thrusting it towards the open door producing a gesture that invited Vegeta to leave. The Saiyan was in no hurry to go, however. His brow furrowed yet further as he strengthened his stare. Though the basic meaning of Yemma's words was fairly obvious to Krillin, he was still unclear as to the exact purpose of the term 'your kind'. Did he mean Saiyans, or all of the damned in general? The fighter deduced from his own experience of Saiyans, with the obvious exceptions of Goku and Gohan, that it was an insignificant detail.  
  
"I will not leave until you grant me an audience." Vegeta insisted, placing one foot forwards.  
  
"Hah! Not a chance!" Yemma replied, "Now hit the road before I call security!"  
  
"What security?" Krillin murmured, in reference to the apparent desertion of all but the irate ogre from the immediate vicinity.  
  
Yemma's angry-red head darted to face Krillin, his giant ears having apparently picked up the fighter's backhanded comment. Krillin's head sank down into his tensed shoulders, driven down by the force of Yemma's disapproving scowl. The ogre then returned to his angry exchange with Vegeta.  
  
"As I was saying," he began, casting a brief, disapproving glance to Krillin, "Either leave, or I'll have you removed!"  
  
"I will not leave until I have been heard!" Vegeta replied, becoming increasingly frustrated at Yemma's stubborn attitude.  
  
It was obvious to Krillin that this conversation had already reached an impasse. The fact that both of the arguing parties were Kings was not helping, as it was apparent that both were accustomed to getting their own way. What worried him now was that, if Vegeta's exploits at the door had been anything to go by, this stand off was in danger of culminating in violence. Once again, the Krillin prepared himself to interject in the fierce exchange.  
  
"Hey guys," he said, gingerly, "Y'know what I think?"  
  
"Silence!" Yemma and Vegeta roared in unison.  
  
Krillin drew his arm up across his face, as if protecting himself from the brutal verbal blow he had received. No sooner had the fighter's interruption been quelled, the two Kings resumed their royal spat. Dropping his defences, Krillin began to wonder if he stood a chance of bringing about a cease fighter between the quarrelling monarchs.  
  
"I will not be ignored, by you or anyone else!" Vegeta warned, taking a step forward and raising a tightly clenched fist before him.  
  
"Even if I wanted to speak to you, and I don't, I just don't have the time!" the ogre informed the Saiyan, "I've got an entire dimension crawling with the likes of you, and limited resources to get 'em back where they belong! I'm short of staff, short of time, and short of patience! Now get outta my face!"  
  
"I am well aware of what has happened here!" Vegeta growled, seemingly at the cusp of attacking Yemma.  
  
But his expression then softened slightly, and he lowered his fist before continuing in a more temperate tone,  
  
"I wish to assist you."  
  
There was a long pause, fuelled by a distinct air of astonishment that had filled the room in the instants after Vegeta had dispensed his words. Krillin looked on, aghast at Vegeta's offer of help in returning the damned, presumably including himself, to the underworld. Yemma too stood slack jawed in surprise. The ogre shook his head, flicking the startled expression from his ample face, and glared down at the Saiyan with an almost amused frown.  
  
"So, let me get this straight." he began, "You. . . want to help me. . . send you back to hell."  
  
"And the others, yes." Vegeta replied.  
  
"Right. . . And what's the catch?" Yemma asked; his voice loaded with scepticism, "I suppose you'll want a full pardon? A kingdom of your own? A one way ticket back to the living world?"  
  
"I want none of these things." Vegeta snarled, apparently offended by the very suggestion that he had an ulterior motive, "I know my place in this world as I knew my place in the last."  
  
"Yeah right." Yemma laughed, "Listen buddy, when you've been around as long as I have, you'll get to realise that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Everyone has a motive, so what's yours?"  
  
At this, Vegeta tore his stare from Yemma. From there, his eyes turned downward. Krillin's eyebrows rose, subtly disclosing his surprise. This was the first time Vegeta had even looked like turning his face downwards.  
  
What's the deal?; Krillin pondered of the King's enigmatic behaviour.  
  
"No answer huh?" Yemma asked; the tone of his voice designed to show a distinct lack of surprise, "That's what I thought. Now stop wasting my time and get out of here. I've got a seal to pick up and a dimension to run."  
  
It was then that Krillin saw his opportunity. Stepping forward and thrusting a finger skywards, he hastily drew breath with the aim of interrupting.  
  
"We can help with that!" He blabbed, garbling the words out as quickly as he could before either king could silence him.  
  
Both looked over to Krillin, and suddenly he found himself awkwardly at the centre of attention. Slowly, his raised arm began to sink down. Several seconds elapsed before he realised that he was expected to elaborate.  
  
"With. . . uh, getting the seal, I mean." He specified, following it with a nervous titter, "We could, y'know, go and get it for you?"  
  
Though his phrase was not a question, it tailed off into an inquisitive tone.  
  
Yemma's broad mouth twisted into a half-hearted smirk at the fighter's words.  
  
"Hmph. Thanks, but no thanks." He replied, "I'm not putting that seal in the hands of rookies, especially not with all those bad guys roaming out there. Too much hangs on this."  
  
"But you haven't got anyone else." Krillin protested, desperately trying to keep his shot at some action from slipping away, "They're all to busy getting beat up by all those bad guys out there. C'mon, we can really help you out here."  
  
"Well I'm sorry, but me 'n' my officers have got a whole heap of stuff going on at the moment and the last thing we need right now is you guys getting under foot." Yemma informed Krillin.  
  
"Under foot?" Krillin repeated Yemma's phrasing, in a tone that denoted some measure offense, "Hey, its not like I don't have any experience with this sorta stuff. I'm a Z-fighter, remember?"  
  
Yemma's expression darkened. His thick, black eye brows sank downwards partially eclipsing his glistening black eyes, and shaping his expression into a frightening scowl.  
  
"Oh yeah, the Z-fighters." Yemma sneered, "Big heroes. Always saving the mortal world. Whole damn thing's virtually their fault to start with."  
  
Krillin gasped with amazement at the weight of this accusation.  
  
"Say what?!" Krillin exclaimed, unable to control his feelings disbelief.  
  
"You heard me!" Yemma yelled, "If you hot-shots had've just left things to pan out on their own, we wouldn't be in this mess!"  
  
Krillin was stunned and confused. The very concept of his actions and those of his friends leading to such a catastrophe was frightening and totally alien to a fighter who had always tried to what was right by all. Krillin could feel his widened eyes becoming uncomfortably warm.  
  
"But. but, I don't understand." Krillin stammered, fighting the numbing distress that threatened to overwhelm him, "How can this be my. our fault?"  
  
As he spoke those words, Krillin's imagination began to race through a thousand hypothetical scenarios. Each thought that occurred was one of the suffering that he may have incurred upon the innocent. The barrages of distressing images continued without relent, as his own subconscious seemed cruelly to be trying to drive him to distraction. In defiance, Krillin did all he could to block the disturbing imaginings.  
  
Yemma looked down upon the distraught fighter. The look of utter torment that had taken hold upon Krillin's visage earned him little sympathy from the ogre, whose own face retained its expression of anger.  
  
"I'll tell you how this is your fault!" he roared, and then pointed to a distant, anonymous place beyond the open doors, "You remember that seal you saw busted wide open? Well that used to be a very delicate piece of equipment, finely tuned to cope with a steadily rising level of souls. That thing had been in place since before recorded time in your world, and looked like lasting that much longer. Then Frieza goes and blows up the Saiyans. The damn thing nearly went up on us then with all the new, powerful souls that flooded in. Fortunately we were able to patch it up before anything seriously bad could happen. After that, we were able to start work on a new seal. We thought we were safe. That is, until you guys came along. You Z-fighters, with your 'super powers' and amateur heroics, you had to start 'protecting the innocent' and 'saving the world'. Did you ever stop to think you were sending all of those powerful nut jobs our way?! All it took was a handful of Frieza's sidekicks. That was the straw that snapped this camel's back!"  
  
Krillin was horrified by what he was hearing. Though he himself had been directly a party to the destruction of precious few powerful villains, he still couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that had overtaken him. Now it seemed that in his attempts to vanquish evil from the mortal world, he had thrust a far greater evil on this one. Only here, there was no way to destroy that evil. The blight that had descended upon this realm could last forever, an eternal dark tide that would eventually immerse all those who perished from the living universe, good or bad. . . and he might actually be accountable. Krillin's guilt was beginning to close in on him, encroaching upon every corner of his mind from every direction. Its grip upon him grew tighter with each second that passed, blotting out the sights and sounds of the outer world and threatening to crush the cradling shelter of sanity within which the fighter found refuge.  
  
"You mean to tell me that you cannot simply send them back to the pit in the same way you sent them before?" Vegeta's abrasive tone of voice dragged Krillin from the contracting cell.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Yemma enquired, his tone carrying frustration at Vegeta's ignorance.  
  
"Surely, as ruler of this world, you have the power to do such things." Vegeta stated, sounding almost disapproving of Yemma's lack of control over his own kingdom.  
  
"I'm an ogre, not a goddamn magician!" bellowed Yemma, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this world doesn't run off of magic toadstools and pixie dust! We run a highly sophisticated, technical operation here. I mean, do you expect me to just snap my fingers and. . ."  
  
The shrill lament of the telephone on his desk interrupted Yemma's sentence. Without bothering to excuse himself from his exchange with king Vegeta, the ogre turned, leaned over his bureau and lifted the receiver from the phone, silencing its piercing cry for attention. Raising the handset to the side of his head, he spoke.  
  
"Hello? Damn it, I told you I'd call you ba. . ." Yemma paused, then continued, his voice and expression both softening noticeably, "You have? It is? Well. . . that's good. . .great. Uh-huh. . . yeah. . .okay. I'll send someone over as soon as I can."  
  
Yemma hung up, and turned back to face Vegeta.  
  
"Finally, some good news."  
  
"Tell me, what has happened?" Vegeta asked of Yemma.  
  
The ogre met with Vegeta's stare, and his face reassumed its previous, harsh cast.  
  
"It just so happens," he began, "the new seal is ready. So you can expect to be back were you came from very soon. Just as soon as I get someone to go get it."  
  
In the time that the two kings had been debating, Krillin had been trying to make sense of what Yemma had been saying. It just seemed to be such an outlandish concept, that the actions of a handful of individuals could affect the entire after life in such a way. And yet, this was how it was, according to Yemma anyway. Initially, the pain caused by the very accusation was searing. Every syllable of every word had scalded the fighter, burning him inside each time his memory had forced him to relive their hearing.  
  
But now Krillin was putting things in perspective. Irrespective of who was to blame, he had come here with the intention of assisting in the rectification of the disaster. If that meant restoring a balance he himself had tipped, then so be it. The fighter had vowed to himself to pour every ounce of remorse he had into his efforts to rescue this stricken world.  
  
While concentrating on his internal emotional conflicts, Krillin had neglected to maintain control over some small portion of his physical restraint. In a moment of deep reflection, a single tear escaped the corner of his eye. Hastily, it sprinted over the contours of the fighter's cheek in its bid for freedom. The gentle caress of the lukewarm droplet on Krillin's skin was enough to retrieve him from the distant corner of his mind in which he had been contemplating his position within this mess.  
  
The fighter's heart took a step up within his chest, as if trying to warn him of the betrayal of his emotions being perpetrated by the rogue tear. Unwilling to allow either Yemma or Vegeta see this modest display of feeling, he quickly swept the drop from his face with the back of his hand before it could flee his face altogether. Blinking hard to clear the remnants of the saline from his eyes, he looked to Yemma. The ogre was in the act of reaching for the phone, likely to begin calling around his officers in the hope of finding one free to perform the task of retrieving the seal.  
  
"Don't bother." Krillin said in barely more than a whisper, trying to hide the residual waver in his voice, "We're going for that seal."  
  
Yemma looked over his shoulder, emitting a bemused grunt as he did.  
  
"What?" the ogre growled.  
  
"I said we're going to get the seal." Krillin asserted, this time in a more audible tone.  
  
Yemma muttered some anonymous profanity under his breath, and then turned to face Krillin.  
  
"I thought I told you, I neither need nor want your help!" Yemma exclaimed, "Now go away and leave this to the professionals."  
  
Without allowing Krillin time to reply, Yemma turned away and reached for the phone once more.  
  
"You know as well as I do, you're not gonna find anyone." Krillin spoke to ogre's back, "I've been out there. I know what they've got to deal with."  
  
A thunderous growl emanated from within Yemma, but Krillin was undeterred,  
  
"There's not an officer out there who's not up to his neck in bad guys right now and you know it. You can spend all day on that phone if you want, but the longer you wait for that seal, the longer all those people out there are going to suffer. You've got to let us go."  
  
Only the gentle rumble of Yemma's breath, and the ambient sounds of suffering that carried through the open doors on the cooling breeze tainted the silence that followed. It was as if the wind itself was trying to reinforce Krillin's argument. Yemma relented.  
  
"Very well." He agreed.  
  
The ogre then turned to face the fighter,  
  
"You can go for the seal."  
  
"Thank you." Said Krillin, sounding relieved more than anything else.  
  
Yemma gave a nod, and a grunt in acknowledgement of the fighter's thanks. Then, his expression hardened.  
  
"But he stays." He demanded, looking to Vegeta.  
  
"What!?" snarled Vegeta, visibly outraged.  
  
"You can stay where I can keep an eye on you." Yemma ordered, "There's no way I'm trusting you with that seal."  
  
"Agh! You cannot be serious!" Vegeta roared at the ogre.  
  
"You'd better believe I'm serious." The ogre bellowed in return.  
  
Krillin watched in fearful anticipation as Vegeta once again raised a fist in anger. The incensed king emitted a growl from between gritted teeth. For a moment, it appeared that Vegeta might actually strike Yemma. But then the growl subsided, as did the monarch's clenched fist. In an apparent act of submission, Vegeta allowed his arm to fall at his side and, with a grunt of displeasure, turned his head from Yemma.  
  
This act of surrender was far less than Krillin had expected from the Saiyan, from any Saiyan in fact. Far from being relieved that the situation had not escalated, Krillin was almost disappointed. Something was most certainly amiss with this Vegeta. For now, however, Krillin was more concerned with the situation that had befallen the heavens, and more pertinently, how he was going to set things right.  
  
"So, where am I going?" Krillin enquired of Yemma.  
  
"We have a tech lab about one hundred miles from here." The ogre replied, "Just concentrate on the words 'tech lab', and you should get there without a problem. The facility is built into the side of a cliff face. You can't miss it."  
  
"Great. I'll be back in no time flat." Krillin assured a visibly worried King Yemma.  
  
The fighter then turned to the open door and took his first step back towards the outside world, but as he did, he caught sight of Vegeta out the corner of his eye. The Saiyan stood with his back turned to both him and Yemma. Though Krillin could not gauge the king's emotional state from his hidden face, his body language spoke volumes of his state of mind. His broad shoulders had fallen several inches from there original lofty position. From them, his arms hung loosely at his sides. His fists were tightly balled, the tension in which fluctuated causing a dull squeal to be emitted from the fabric of his gloves as his fingers ground against his palms. The king's head was still raised, but this was clearly an empty gesture, paying homage to a splendid pride that had long since expired with the passing of its possessor.  
  
As Krillin looked upon this tarnished and battered monument to a dead race, he couldn't help but feel pity for the broken monarch. The fighter regretted having glanced across at the dejected Saiyan, as he knew he would now be unable to leave him to his misery.  
  
You are such a sap, Krillin; he thought to himself, before turning back to King yemma, who was now ambling back to the other side of his desk.  
  
"I think King Vegeta should come with me." Krillin stated.  
  
Yemma looked up at the fighter, his huge eyes widened in surprise. Krillin's request had not gone unnoticed by Vegeta either. The Saiyan glanced over his shoulder, revealing a single, piercing eye.  
  
"I told you," Yemma began, furrowing his ample brow, "He stays here. I won't have him anywhere near that seal."  
  
"Look, a hundred miles is a long way." Krillin informed Yemma, "Especially with the entire dimension crawling with bad guys. I can try and get that seal to you, but I can't guarantee it'll be safe. I'm only one fighter, after all. At least with Vegeta around I'll have some back up."  
  
"There's nothing I'd like more than give you back up," Yemma told the fighter, and then gestured at Vegeta with a tilt of his colossal head, "but I just don't trust him. How can you guarantee that the seal will be safe with him around?"  
  
Krillin looked down at his feet, fearing that he may have just reached an impassable obstacle in his argument. Indeed, there was no tangible evidence of Vegeta's good intentions to speak of. He thought carefully about his response, but as hard as he rode his mind for an answer, he could turn up nothing. The fighter began contemplated the possibility of surrendering his fight for Vegeta's participation. But then he thought of his encounter with Zarbon, and how Vegeta had given him an eleventh hour reprieve from an eternity of despair at the wicked fighter's hands. Krillin couldn't just let that slide.  
  
After a several long seconds of cogitation, Krillin reluctantly concluded that the only guarantee of Vegeta's worthiness of trust was his own word. It was all he had, and all he could offer. Surely though, if he had been deemed worthy of a place in heaven, his word must have been considered to be worth something. Taking a shallow breath, Krillin looked up at yemma from beneath the shelter of his sunken brow.  
  
"Well?" Yemma barked.  
  
"You have my word." Krillin uttered, barely believing his own words as they left his mouth.  
  
He half expected the ogre to spit the words back in his face, as he had already made his feelings about the Earth warrior abundantly clear. But before the ogre had a chance to accept or spurn the fighter's promise, a third voice entered the fray.  
  
"And mine." Came a soft utterance.  
  
It was Vegeta, who now stood facing Yemma.  
  
Yemma glanced sceptically at the Saiyan.  
  
"Hah! You mean I have your word as a Saiyan?" Yemma scoffed.  
  
"You have my word. as a king." Vegeta declared, solemnly.  
  
Krillin was prepared for Yemma to issue a scathing dressing down to the Saiyan, but the scolding never came. Indeed, it appeared that these words had reached Yemma at some level. The ogre's expression had softened, if only marginally, and he now appeared somewhat pensive.  
  
Yemma growled softly, his quiet lament seemingly denoting frustration at being forced into reconsidering his position. His reluctant contemplation continued for a short period, observed with great concern by both Krillin and Vegeta. After some considerable pondering, Yemma finally issued the waiting fighter's with his verdict.  
  
"Okay, he can go." The ogre sighed, "But I'd better not regret this."  
  
"All right!" Krillin exclaimed, thrusting a hand skywards at this small victory.  
  
Vegeta's reaction was somewhat subtler. Remaining silent, the monarch gave an almost undetectable nod of his head in acknowledgement of Yemma's favour. He then turned in a single sweeping motion, perhaps designed for effect by one accustomed to wearing a cape, and headed for the open door. Krillin too turned, and began to beat a hasty path towards the door. As he did, he glanced back over his shoulder to Yemma. The ogre was watching them leave, his face baring a distinct cast of anxiety.  
  
"Don't worry," Krillin shouted to the receding king, "we'll be back before you know it!"  
  
Krillin turned back to the door to see Vegeta bound up from the ground, and take flight into the clear, pink skies. The fighter scampered through the open door, and was greeted by the enthusiastic embrace of the cool atmosphere around his body. As he prepared to launch himself from the ground, he heard an almost inaudible mumbling from the office he had just left behind.  
  
"I just know I'm going to regret this." 


	12. The Pick Up

The air stank of burning. The rich, thick aroma of destruction rode across the fields of other-world on the sickly warm breeze, as the spectre of death atop its skeletal steed. At the horizon, looming pillars of acrid smoke reached to the pink skies that had become steadily more tainted as Krillin and King Vegeta's journey had worn on. All around the evidence was mounting that, slowly and agonisingly, this beautiful place was being corrupted.  
  
Krillin shivered. The air might have been warm, but the atmosphere of dread and despair that was creeping over the land carried with it a soul-draining coldness. It was the same kind of cold that the fighter had experienced whilst immersed with the souls of the damned, a frost of heartless indifference and malice.  
  
Pulling his already tense arms closer to his sides, Krillin altered his altitude to hug the ground yet more closely. This was how he had intended escape the notice of the numerous frightful beings that now plagued this plane. However, this was not the only reason for his low flight path. The good warrior knew that a high vantage point would allow him to see some distance, and that it was almost certain that in that case he would bare witness to all manner of horrors. He knew that if he were to see such occurrences, his first instinct would be to come to the aid of those in trouble, but he also knew that he did not have the time to spare for such rescues. One hour spent helping a single tormented soul would be one more hour spent suffering by the rest of heaven.  
  
King Vegeta, on the other hand, seemed to be wrestling with no such dilemma. As before, he was cruising some distance above Krillin, his piercing stare trained unswervingly on the horizon ahead. Initially, Krillin had had some difficulty keeping pace with Vegeta. While he had been trying to quell his ki in an effort to travel covertly, the Saiyan had simply taken to the sky with all engines firing. The little Earthman had found himself having to burn every ounce of energy he had just to keep up, and even then, he thought that Vegeta might be holding back somewhat to allow him to stay close. Krillin wondered if this was a mute gesture of thanks for his earlier support. However, it was more likely that the Saiyan knew that it was unlikely that the seal would be handed over to him unless he was with someone who had already been approved.  
  
As the two mismatched warriors raced across the grim grasslands, Krillin again found himself faced with the same awkward silence as that the two had shared earlier. His discomfort was amplified by the cries of horror that seemed to increase in volume with every mile they covered, but the fighter was duty bound to ignore.  
  
Desperate for distraction, Krillin would spend a few minutes here and there trying to pick out individual fighters from amid the tempest of active kis. Carefully his mind would trawl the oceans of energy, trying to fish out the most prominent signals. It had been some small encouragement to him that his search had turned up some strong spirits that did not exude the coldness of corruption, but rather the warmth of goodness that Krillin had once sensed in his own friends as they prepared for battle back on the mortal plane. It was likely that these were the souls of great and good warriors of times past, called upon to do battle with evil one last time. However, these benevolent presences were still but as bright stars amid a blackened firmament, as they seemed to be hopelessly outnumbered by the wicked. To Krillin this was a sobering reminder of how easily one could be twisted by one's own power.  
  
Occasionally, Krillin would cast an eye upward to King Vegeta in the vain hope that he might be able to open up a dialogue. He had opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but each time the words had coward within him, stubbornly refusing to make themselves heard. But as the journey continued, Krillin was finding it more and more difficult to deal with the strain he was being placed under. Gradually, this pressure was forcing his words out into the open.  
  
"So. . . er . . . you're a Saiyan." Krillin said gingerly, looking up at Vegeta, "That must be. . . interesting."  
  
Krillin winced.  
  
Nice opener, dummy; Krillin thought to himself, annoyed at his own poor choice of words.  
  
Vegeta did not reply, nor even acknowledge Krillin's half-baked attempt at conversation. Taking some heart in the fact that he had not been shot down, either verbally or physically, Krillin continued.  
  
"Y'know, there was a Saiyan outside my house today." He informed Vegeta matter-of-factly, "He was pretty big. Tough fighter, too. But, not as tough as you I bet."  
  
Krillin cringed again.  
  
Good one, Krillin. When you're finished licking his boots, why don't you kiss his butt aswell; he scolded himself.  
  
"He looked pretty old, though, so I guess you wouldn't know him. Hey, maybe he was a distant relative of yours. You know, there is something of a resemblance. What with all that dark hair and. . ."  
  
Krillin was interrupted by a loud grunt, as King Vegeta cast a disdainful glance down upon him. The King then coasted off about ten meters ahead of Krillin to escape the fighter's inane babbling. There he held his position, without so much as another sound.  
  
Krillin was not impressed by this rather rude display of disrespect. Offended, he thought of King Vegeta,  
  
Well that's just fine. Geez, I mean, you put a crown on a guy's head and give him a fancy title, and suddenly he's to good to even talk to you! And after what I did for him. Sheesh! Like I didn't get a hard enough time off of Prince Vegeta;  
  
Then, in a fleeting moment of lost control brought about by his grievance, Krillin grumbled,  
  
"Like father, like son."  
  
Before Krillin realised what was happening, another disastrous escape had occurred. These words were never supposed to have seen the light of day.  
  
Suddenly, Vegeta shot a frightening glance over his shoulder and straight towards Krillin. It seemed as if the intensity that blazed in the Saiyan's eyes might scorch a hole in the careless fighter.  
  
Uh-oh. Did I say that out loud?; Krillin wondered, as he hoped dearly that it was not his words that King Vegeta was reacting to.  
  
With a fleeting burst of ice-blue light, Vegeta pulled up, allowing Krillin to coast a few meters ahead. Krillin's heart sank into his boots as he passed beneath the statuesque monarch, not daring look up at him as he did.  
  
Fighting the urge to just keep going and avoid any follow on, Krillin too came to an abrupt halt. However, he did not turn to face Vegeta. Instead he hung motionless, his back turned to the Saiyan, unwilling to make eye contact.  
  
"Oh man. Stupid, stupid, stupid." Krillin hissed at himself from between gritted teeth.  
  
The two fighter's remained in this poise for several agonising moments, with Krillin feeling the stinging heat of Vegeta's glare against the back of his poorly protected head. Then, on the warm breeze, came the words Krillin had dreaded,  
  
"What do you know of my son?"  
  
Krillin whimpered softly at the awful situation in which he had placed himself. The quietness of the query was ominous in itself, belying the potential for catastrophe that a response might carry. However, though Krillin was unsure of the right answer was to this question, he knew that it was better to risk a response than to not respond at all. He had already witnessed Vegeta's policy on being ignored.  
  
Slowly, and reluctantly, Krillin turned to face Vegeta. The fighter made the action slow and deliberate, in an effort to buy some time to think up the correct response. But as the fearful panorama of deserted planes and burning forests gradually passed before him, he found that his panicked mind was failing him. So, as King Vegeta finally panned into view, Krillin resolved to do the thing that any honourable warrior would. He had to tell the truth.  
  
"Nothing." Krillin said.  
  
What? That didn't sound like the truth; Krillin thought in puzzlement.  
  
It seemed that, once again, the fighter's mouth was thinking for itself. He knew that he had seen Frieza blast a hole in Prince Vegeta the size of his fist, yet this information was not passed for distribution by Krillin's increasingly independent tongue. Nonetheless, it was too late to turn back now. Not wanting to appear to be toying with the moody King's emotions, Krillin continued with his deception.  
  
"Well nothing specific, er. . . I mean, I know of Prince Vegeta. Y'know, by reputation." He garbled, "But, I mean, I don't know much. I mean, It's just gossip and hear 'say mostly. Y'know, the galactic grapevine 'n' all. But I hear good things. Well, not too good, I mean. . ."  
  
Vegeta growled loudly in frustration at Krillin's display inarticulateness.  
  
"Be silent!" he barked.  
  
Krillin was only too happy to oblige. He thought he must have been the first dead-man ever to start digging his own grave.  
  
Vegeta, his faced baring a hybrid expression of anger and disgust, turned his gaze away from the fighter and cruised away.  
  
Krillin breathed a sigh of relief as the immediate danger passed. However, he now found himself poised precariously atop an ill-constructed stack of lies. Another slip of the tongue could be enough to topple it and its constructor. With this in mind, Krillin laid in a pursuit course after Vegeta deciding that it would be better to brave the fearful sights and sounds of this paradise-lost rather than chance another dialogue with the king.  
  
The journey that had seemed to last an aeon or two, but in reality had only lasted little more than an hour, was finally drawing to an end as Krillin and Vegeta's goal came into view from behind a large hill. On the other side of the rise was stood a lonely cliff face, only forty or fifty feet in height, which had apparently been quarried from the side of gently rolling hill. Set into the side of the rocky landform was a building whose design was in stark contrast to the other, more retro buildings that could be seen throughout the rest of the other dimension. The façade of the building was constructed almost exclusively from heavily tinted glass in rectangular sections, held together by a regular lattice of lustrous steel girders. The shimmering glasswork gave a dull reflection of its immediate surroundings, creating the effect of a window into a neighbouring world set into a frame of grey stone. Before it was sprawled a large, square concrete surface with double rows of rectangles painted on in white. Wide isles separated these rows, and cars similar in design to King Yemma's, but not even close to the same size occupied several of the rectangular spaces. From his position just above the last hill, Krillin was finding hard to make out a door in the homogeneous structure.  
  
He and King Vegeta crested the hill, and then began to coast down its gently sloping side. The hillside terminated at the edge of the car park, and the two fighters touched down on its sterile grey surface. Krillin deliberately landed a few meters behind Vegeta in the hope that the Saiyan might take the lead, as he still had little idea where to go. Sure enough, no sooner had his boots struck the concrete King Vegeta began to stride purposefully straight down the centre of the car park towards the tech lab, now about one hundred meters away. Finding himself at a disadvantage in leg- size, Krillin had to travel at a quick trot to keep up with the Saiyan who had not even checked to make sure that the Earthman was still behind him.  
  
As they traversed the car park, Krillin noticed that there were very few cars occupying spaces. It seemed that a number of the facilities employees had called in sick. The fighter couldn't blame them. After all, who would want to travel across a war-zone just to get to work of a morning?  
  
It seemed that Vegeta's instinct to approach the middle of the building was correct. As the two drew closer to its glass boundary, Krillin spotted a small, grey box fixed to one of the girders at what was about average human head height. The box was bisected by a series of narrow, vertical gaps that reached from its top to its middle. Below this was a single, red button.  
  
Upon reaching the box Vegeta stopped, and looked down at it in stern puzzlement. Krillin drew up along side, and awaited the king's action. It seemed that Vegeta was not used to such subtle means of gaining attention, something that he had shown earlier. However, he slowly raised an index finger, and cautiously depressed the button.  
  
There was a loud buzz as the box reacted to Vegeta's interference. The sound then died off instantly as the King quickly retracted his digit with a soft grunt.  
  
"Other-World Tech Lab reception," came a shrill, fuzzy female voice, "how may I help you?"  
  
"You will let me in immediately." King Vegeta demanded of the voice.  
  
Krillin sighed quietly.  
  
Here we go again; he thought.  
  
"Please state your name and the nature of your visit." The voice said politely.  
  
"Agh! I said let me in!" Vegeta barked, not willing to engage in such pointless formalities.  
  
Krillin was seeing some rather worrying parallels between the current situation and the one outside Yemma's office earlier that day.  
  
"Please state your name and the nature of your visit." The voice repeated, with almost identical tone and inflections.  
  
Krillin could sense that the persistence of the secretary was working on Vegeta's already strained temper. Fearing that he might attempt to 'knock' on the door again, Krillin decided to chance an intervention.  
  
"King Vegeta and Krillin. We're here to pick up the seal." He garbled, before Vegeta could respond.  
  
The Saiyan flashed a horrifying glare at Krillin, who stepped back with fright. But before Vegeta could react to Krillin's insubordination, the glass panel directly in front of them slid aside with a quiet gasp.  
  
King Vegeta looked up at the open door, then back at Krillin. He then proceeded to muscle past the fighter and enter the building.  
  
"After you." Krillin muttered ironically, then followed Vegeta in.  
  
Krillin shivered upon entering the building as he passed into the cool, air- conditioned lobby. The threshold between the muggy outdoor air the cooled indoor air was quite pronounced and the change in temperature quite pleasant, particularly on the fighter's clammy scalp.  
  
The door slid shut behind Krillin, banishing the awful sounds of suffering that still drifted across the hills and planes of other-world. These cries of anguish were replaced by the gentle strains of synthesised classical music, which was being pumped into the lobby over a PA system.  
  
The lobby was in stark contrast to the rapidly darkening outside world. The contoured meadows of blue grass had given way to a perfectly flat surface of white, porcelain tiles. The floor of the lobby was square in shape with sides of about thirty meters in length. In fact, the whole room appeared to be cubic in geometry with white walls and ceiling, all identical in dimensions to the floor. Had it not been for the square desk at the centre of the room, and the potted palm trees standing guard at each corner, Krillin could have forgiven himself for thinking he might be standing on the ceiling.  
  
Seeing that King Vegeta was already on his way to the reception desk, Krillin hastily gave chase. Again, he feared for the results of letting Vegeta deal with the formalities of this place without supervision. As he trotted across the tiled floor, his footsteps echoed from the sterile walls of the hall, giving a soft percussion backing to the dulcet tones of the ambient music.  
  
With some effort, Krillin was able to reach the desk at the same time as King Vegeta. He then peered over the top of the desk, which was at about the height of his chin, and looked up at its occupant. There was sat a female demon, dressed in white blouse and her face adorned with thick, black-framed glasses. This demon appeared to fairly advanced in age. A short mane of white hair surrounded the black horn that protruded from her head, and her blue face bore the rigours of countless centuries of public relations.  
  
"Where is the seal?" Vegeta enquired forcefully, slamming a hand down on the surface of the desk.  
  
Unflustered by the Saiyan's outburst, the receptionist glanced up from her computer monitor, and briefly examined the unusual duo over the frame of her glasses.  
  
Vegeta growled as he was looked over by the wizened demon.  
  
"Well? Answer me, crone." He demanded, slamming a second hand on the desk.  
  
The demon raised her grey eyebrows at Vegeta's rather rude address. However, her PR skills held, and she did not react.  
  
"Dr. Geoff will be with you momentarily." She stated with flawless verbal accuracy, suggesting that she had dispensed the same or similar words an unimaginable number of times during her years of service, "Please, take a seat."  
  
The receptionist gestured to two white, plastic seats situated against the wall to the fighters' left. Vegeta looked briefly at the chairs, then back at the demon. He then snarled with frustration at being made to wait yet longer and turned away from the desk, barking some unfamiliar, and probably unrepeatable Saiyan profanity as he did.  
  
"I think we'll stand, thank you." Krillin said politely, trying to fulfil his role in this game of 'good fighter, bad fighter'.  
  
However, the demon had already returned to her work, the frantic clicking of her furious typing being her only response. It seemed that, having completed her own obligatory pleasantries, she didn't care what Krillin and Vegeta did.  
  
This left Krillin to stand and wait as the tension that radiate from Vegeta steadily increased in magnitude. Looking around, the fighter tried to find something to fill what he hoped would be a short time before their needs were attended to. Scanning the top of the reception desk, his eyes fell upon a small Perspex stand containing a neat collection of leaflets. Reaching up, Krillin plucked one of the glossy pamphlets from its resting place. The front read,  
  
Other-World Tech Lab Where Science And The Supernatural Are One  
  
Beneath these words was printed a small photograph of the building itself taken from outside. The image was clearly designed to attract business or investment, or some such, as it had been taken a particularly pleasant day, when its car park had been filled with immaculately clean and waxed cars. This picture did not bare much resemblance to the scene he had encountered upon reaching the labs.  
  
Opening the leaflet, Krillin was greeted by the smiling faces of a throng of happy employees captured in print. Then, something peculiar happened.  
  
"Hi!" The faces shouted cheerily, at which point all of the pictured demons began to wave vigorously.  
  
Krillin emitted a startled yelp, and dropped the leaflet to the ground. The sound of his scare echoed around the cavernous lobby, earning him the attention of the both the receptionist and King Vegeta.  
  
"Sorry." Krillin said, grinning with embarrassment.  
  
Vegeta lifted his downward gaze from Krillin with a pronounced huff, denoting a profound lack of surprise at the fighter's odd behaviour. The receptionists simply returned to her typing.  
  
Krillin lifted the leaflet from the floor, and gently replaced in the stand so as not to evoke any further reaction from the pictures within.  
  
Man. And I thought that dinosaurs, aliens and dragonballs were weird; Krillin thought, pining for the more familiar oddities of the living world.  
  
And with that thought, Krillin's awkward wait was mercifully brought to an end. From across the lobby there echoed the sound of a small bell pealing once. Krillin peered around the side of the receptionist just in time to see a sliding door, identical in colour to the wall that housed it, sliding open with a mechanical whir. The opening door revealed three individuals enclosed within the metallic walls of what appeared to be an elevator. The three were all demons of the same variety as the receptionist, and that at Yemma's office, only these three were dressed in lab coats. Two of the demons appeared to be identical, both being tall and lanky with long, gaunt faces. Their coats went as far as their knees, at which point the strange, tiger-stripe trousers that seemed so popular among demon-kind took over. The third, stood between the others, was a short, rotund individual, whose lab coat reached down to the ground, obscuring both his legs and his feet. His head was bare but for the trademark black horn, and a thick, grey beard shrouded that lower half of his face. Upon the bridge of his nose was seated a pair of glasses whose lenses were so thick that they verged on the opaque.  
  
Vegeta too had noticed the arrival of the unearthly scientists and began to stride quickly around the desk to meet them as they disembarked the lift.  
  
Still nervous about allowing Vegeta uncontrolled access to the seal, Krillin jogged around the opposite side of the bureaux, trying to keep pace with the impatient King. He and King Vegeta both reached the entrance to the lift as the trio of scientists stepped off.  
  
"The seal! You will give to me now!" Vegeta boomed before anyone else could speak, and then held out an open hand.  
  
Neither of the twins reacted to this. The shortest of the three simply looked up at Vegeta, his eyes barely visible through the coke bottles he was wearing.  
  
"Ah! I'm guessing you are, erm. . . Krillin." he said, and then looking at Krillin he continued, "Ah yes, and you must be King Vegeta. King Yemma told me to expect you."  
  
Krillin grimaced at the elderly scientists mistaken identification, fearing the Vegeta would not take kindly.  
  
Vegeta, however, seemed utterly unconcerned with anything other than obtaining the seal.  
  
"Where is the seal?!" he asked, becoming ever more impatient.  
  
"Yes, yes, all in good time my dear fellow, all in good time." The scientist said, beginning to search his person.  
  
Krillin frowned in puzzlement. Why was he searching his pockets fro something that was as big as the building he was in? The fighter had expected to be led to some sought of large haulage vehicle with which to shift the gargantuan seal.  
  
"Oh yes, I'm Dr. Geoff by the way." The demon continued, "I built this seal. Well, the twins and I, that is. Oh my, yes. This one's a beauty, all right. No expense spared, don't you know. We started on it back in . . ."  
  
"We don't have time for this!" King Vegeta roared, "Now give me the seal!"  
  
"Oh yes, yes, very well." Dr. Geoff said, following it with a gentle giggle, "Feisty one, aren't we? Now I know I have it on me somewhere. . . in my jacket. . . no . . . pants maybe . . . or was it. . ."  
  
"Either find it now or I will find it for you!" Vegeta threatened, raising that infamous fist.  
  
But before King Vegeta could make good on his threat, the lobby was permeated by the deafening sound shattering glass.  
  
Krillin span around on the spot and faced the source of the sound. He looked on in shock as the glass face of the lobby collapsed from its metal frame, raining down glittering fragments of light as the debris tumbled to the ground. The racket persisted as the small pieces of glass cried out as they burst into even smaller shards as they struck the hard floor and skittered across the smooth tiles.  
  
Krillin was unable to see what was going on around the desk where the receptionist continued to work, unfazed. But as the sound died away, there came a chillingly familiar voice.  
  
"Knock knock."  
  
Krillin shut his eyes hard, and whined despairingly to himself,  
  
"Oh no. Not again. . ."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
. 


	13. Purpose

Reluctantly, Krillin began to raise himself from the ground so as to find a better vantage point from which to identify the new arrival. Stopping a few feet from the ground, he craned his neck and peered nervously over the head of the receptionist. His fears were confirmed. There, standing amid atop a carpet of broken glass in what was once the doorway, was Zarbon.  
  
The fiendish fighter stood with his arms folded, cackling quietly at the chaos he had wrought, and was about to wreak. And worse still, he was not alone.  
  
At his left hand was stood a second grotesquely familiar face. A far more alien creature than Zarbon, this bloated fighter's body was stuffed into the standard issue uniform of Frieza's henchman. With scarcely a neck to speak of, his bulging head spilled out the opening in the top of his armour. His face, crowned by a number of blunt spines, grinned maniacally with glistening purple lips.  
  
"Good afternoon gentleman." Zarbon said, as if greeting friendly acquaintances, "Or is it morning? You know, it's been kind of hard to tell since I, shall we say, passed on."  
  
"Zarbon, you sickening piece of filth!" Vegeta snarled, making no effort to hide his hatred, "You would dare face me again?!"  
  
Krillin shot a glance at King Vegeta. The Saiyan's face was twisted into an expression of the purest loathing and revulsion. His jaw was tightly clenched, and droplets of saliva leapt from between his gritted teeth as he drove his breath between them. Every one of Vegeta's pointed features was trained upon Zarbon like a weapon ready to be fired.  
  
"Indeed I would." Zarbon replied with a fearful smile, almost seeming to take Vegeta's disdain as a compliment, "Though, I would hardly say that I 'faced' you earlier. In fact, as I recall, you attacked me while my back was turned. That certainly wasn't very honourable, not that I would expect any better from a Saiyan."  
  
Zarbon placed a particularly derogatory emphasis on the last word of the sentence, provoking a rumbling growl from an outraged Vegeta.  
  
"I wouldn't even have known it was you had my associate not been nearby." He continued, and then gestured subtly to the creature at his side, "I trust you both remember my colleague, Dodoria."  
  
How could I forget; Krillin thought, as he recalled the grotesque fighter's pursuit of he and Gohan back on Namek.  
  
"It's a pleasure to see you both again." Dodoria said, casting a particularly sadistic leer towards Krillin, causing him to recoil slightly in fear.  
  
"I remember that disgusting ball of fat all to well." Vegeta sneered.  
  
Far from provoking an angry response from Dodoria, the fighter simply grinned at the Saiyan,  
  
"Vegeta, you smooth talker. I bet you say that to all the villains."  
  
Vegeta was becoming more enraged by the second as the two evil fighters continued to bait him. Gradually he began to rise from the ground, his altitude increasing like a gauge of his anger.  
  
Zarbon and Dodoria also began to levitate, matching Vegeta's manoeuvres. The air beneath their feet glittered as small fragments of glass were dislodged from the soles of their boots and fell to the ground.  
  
"You have no business here." Said King Vegeta, "Now leave at once."  
  
Predictably, neither Zarbon nor Dodoria took him up on the offer of an escape. The two just hung motionless, baring the same insidious grin.  
  
"Come now, Vegeta." Drawled Zarbon, "Don't play games with us. It's not becoming of a King."  
  
"Yes. You know why we're here." Dodoria added.  
  
Krillin was becoming increasingly concerned. Initially he had thought that Zarbon had come after him and King Vegeta to exact revenge for his earlier defeat. However, now it was beginning to appear as if he and Dodoria were aware of the seal's existence. In that case, they would have surely realised that it would be in their best interests to obtain, even destroy the seal before it could be deployed. But still, the question remained of how the two fighters could have gleaned such information.  
  
"As always you know nothing." Vegeta sniped, "Now, be gone. I will not warn you again."  
  
Again, they did not heed the warning. Zarbon gave a short laugh.  
  
"Oh, we know plenty." He said.  
  
"We learned everything we needed to know from that little conversation at King Yemma's place." Dodoria revealed, then placed his hand over his mouth in mock surprise, "Oops! Me and my big mouth."  
  
"What?!" Krillin yelped in surprise, "B-but how."  
  
The fighter was utterly confused. How in the other-world could he have not sensed two such powerful fighters at such close quarters?  
  
"How, you say?" Zarbon enquired, with a degree of real bemusement evident in his voice.  
  
"I think he's talking about that little trick that Earthmen can do." Dodoria said to Zarbon, without taking his eyes off Krillin, "You know, the one where they can sense power levels."  
  
"Oh, I see." Zarbon replied, then stared straight into Krillin's widened eyes, "Well, let's just say that when you've spent a little time in hell you learn how to keep a low profile."  
  
A chill ran down Krillin's tensed spine. The very thought that hell was inhabited by entities that could frightened even the two monsters that floated before him was terrifying. And what was more, it was likely that these things were even now stalking the fields and forests of heaven.  
  
A few tense moments passed as the two pairs of fighters remained suspended in the air, looking at each other across the lobby. Krillin took a second glance at Vegeta. The Saiyan was wearing the same look of abhorrence, only now it was starting to appear laboured. He was beginning to wonder just how much provocation it was going to take before King Vegeta actually took some action. A few more moments were allowed to pass before Zarbon broke the silence.  
  
"It looks like I'm going to win our little wager." Zarbon said, glancing briefly at Dodoria.  
  
"So it does." Dodoria replied, "It's been almost five minutes, and Vegeta still hasn't attacked us. I am very impressed, Zarbon. I didn't realise you were such a shrewd judge of character."  
  
It seemed that Krillin was not the only one to have noticed King Vegeta's relatively placid behaviour.  
  
"Thank you, Dodoria." Zarbon said, then looked directly at Vegeta, "But really, you don't have to be a shrewd judge of character to spot a coward when he's right in front of you."  
  
At this, Vegeta roared with rage, his lament of anger causing the brittle floor tiles to resonate and crack. Krillin's mind was overwhelmed by the surge of energy as the King drove the full extent of his mighty ki to the surface. In an instant, Vegeta was engulfed in a blazing, blue aura. Pulse after throbbing pulse of raw energy radiated outward from him in concentric spheres, almost blowing the fighter into the wall of the lobby. But for all the impressive sabre rattling, Krillin still could not help but feel that this was an empty gesture.  
  
"Yes, yes, that's all very well Vegeta." Zarbon spoke up over the din, "But all the powering up in the universe won't change what you've become."  
  
Vegeta ceased his cry, and met Zarbon's stare from within the steady, blue flames of energy.  
  
"You're a has-been, Vegeta." Zarbon said, "The king of a dead race, a footnote in the history of universe that has long since forgotten the great and terrible Saiyan warriors. And to think, your entire species had to be wiped from existence because you were to proud to just be a good little monkey, and do Lord Frieza's bidding."  
  
Krillin couldn't understand the behaviour of Zarbon and Dodoria. It was as if they were trying to push King Vegeta to violence. He couldn't for the afterlife of him think what the motive could be for such open derision of one as volatile as a Saiyan.  
  
The fighter looked up at Vegeta, expecting to find him on the very brink of another explosion of rage. However, what he found was a king on the verge of surrender. The Saiyan's head was slowly bowing, his eyes now looking away from those of Zarbon to the ground below. It was then that Krillin noticed that Vegeta's ki was beginning to wane, along with the look of outrage that his face had once carried. His fighting spirit seemed close to death.  
  
That was it! Krillin suddenly realised what was going on. Zarbon and Dodoria aimed to cripple what remained of the King Vegeta's pride by focusing a verbal attack on his greatest shame; his responsibility for the extinction of his own people. This certainly explained much of Vegeta's strange behaviour, in particular his uncharacteristic lack of assertiveness. In weakening Vegeta psychologically, the two villains planned to take the seal with the minimum effort possible. It was definitely a wiser course of action than simply going toe-to-toe with one deemed worthy of dominion over the greatest of warrior races. Worryingly, these subtle tactics seemed to be working. Vegeta's power level was dropping by the second, and Krillin knew that he would be unable to protect the seal without his help. He had to think of a way to get Vegeta back into the game.  
  
"You failed them, Vegeta. Every last one." Zarbon continued, "Your whole race was condemned because of your foolish arrogance."  
  
These words, along with memories of earlier exchanges with King Vegeta, evoked an idea within Krillin.  
  
"Hey!" he called over to Zarbon, "Aren't you forgetting someone? Not all the Saiyan's were killed by Frieza y'know."  
  
Zarbon looked at Krillin quizzically for a moment, then a smile, even more wicked than before, began to creep across his face.  
  
"Ah, you mean the young Prince Vegeta?" He said.  
  
Krillin fought to contain a slight smirk of excitement as he sensed the slightest of changes from within King Vegeta. His plan seemed to be working.  
  
"Oh yes." Laughed Dodoria, "How could we have forgotten about him? He's probably back in Lord Frieza's servitude by now."  
  
Vegeta's energy began to stir once more as the Saiyan became steadily more enraged by this derogatory talk of his son. Krillin maintained his eye contact with Zarbon, not wanting to give away his intentions by checking on the progress of Vegeta's anger. As he had hoped, Zarbon continued to speak of the prince,  
  
"Indeed. And after the way he's been behaving, he's probably been made a eunuch and spends his days cleaning his master's toe-nails."  
  
Krillin smiled slyly.  
  
"Big mistake, buddy."  
  
A horrifying sound tore the air throughout the room. The terrible roar crashed against the four walls and spilled out onto the fields beyond. Simultaneously, the surroundings began to darken as if some ravenous vacuum were sucking the very energy from every atom of every molecule of every thing within its gluttonous sights. A great flood of power that seemed to surge from every corner of other world rushed inwards upon the exposed lobby, filling it with a howling gale that lifted the furniture into the air and tore the tiles from the floor. The sheer magnitude of this storm of energy was terrifying, and it was converging on King Vegeta.  
  
Krillin raised his forearm across his face to protect his eyes from the flying debris and the brilliant light that Vegeta was generating. He could barely make out the Saiyan, who had become lost within the blazing corona of his own ki. As King Vegeta's power level soared to ever more intimidating heights, Krillin began to wonder if his plan had worked a little too well.  
  
"Oh man." he whined, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."  
  
Finally, Vegeta's energy reached a dizzying plateau. The aura that surrounded him began to reduce in intensity, steadily falling in magnitude before reaching a constant level as a throbbing ice-blue flame. His narrowed eyes darted impatiently between Zarbon and Dodoria, whose amusement had long since been blown away along with anything else that had not been bolted down. Suddenly they became fixed upon Zarbon. The decision had been made.  
  
A cool breeze stroked Krillin's face briefly, and Vegeta was gone. Before he could turn his head to search for him Vegeta had reappeared, his face mere inches from Zarbon's. Krillin's eyes locked on to the Saiyan in time to see him twist his torso in readiness to unleash an attack. Zarbon scarcely had the time to bear an expression of surprise as King Vegeta's fist, sheathed in flame, blazed through the air and impacted with his face. A flash of light, and a sound that was more akin to that of an explosion than a punch heralded the strike. Zarbon's head snapped backwards as Vegeta's fist followed through. Then, in what almost appeared to be a delayed reaction, Zarbon's limp body was flung from the point of impact, completely at the mercy of its newfound momentum. In a fraction of a second, he hurtled out of the broken façade of the lobby, tearing effortlessly through one of the horizontal girders as he went. This caused the already weakened infrastructure of the building to groan ominously as it was brutalised yet further.  
  
Krillin looked on, almost horrified by what he had incited. But before he could even conceive of a second thought, King Vegeta dematerialised once more. This time, he re-emerged outside, several meters ahead of the still reeling Zarbon. As the stricken fighter reached his position, Vegeta released a second even more ferocious blow that ploughed into the abdomen of its unfortunate recipient. A small of spray of debris burst from the point of impact, as Zarbon's woefully inadequate armour disintegrated under the force of the attack. Again, Zarbon's body erupted into motion, this time ploughing back first into the concrete surface of the car park with a thunderous crash, causing a thick soup of dust and shrapnel to pour into the air. The cloud of debris then began to twist and writhe as King Vegeta, screaming with rage, proceeded to teem handfuls of seething ki energy down upon Zarbon who had now completely vanished from sight.  
  
Though this merciless onslaught was as compelling as it was terrifying, Krillin was able to pull his attention away for just long enough to notice that Dodoria had his backed turned to him. The hideous fighter, who was fortunate enough to have been passed over by Vegeta's wrath, was mesmerised by the sheer brutality of what was transpiring. This was Krillin's chance.  
  
Krillin looked down at the ground below, where Dr Geoff was still rummaging around his person in search of the seal. Quickly, he dropped to the ground and ran the few paces to where Geoff was standing.  
  
"Have you found it yet?" Krillin asked anxiously, periodically glancing over his shoulder.  
  
However, Dr Geoff seemed oblivious to Krillin as he continued to root around.  
  
"I was sure it was in my. . . wallet. . . waistcoat. . . underpants. . ."  
  
"C'mon, c'mon." Krillin said, jumping up and down with impatience.  
  
Dr Geoff ceased his search for a moment, and looked at Krillin sternly.  
  
"Patience is a virtue, young man." The demon stated, "You should learn to stop and smell the roses."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Krillin whined, trying to be diplomatic, "All I'm saying is that now would be a really good time to. . ."  
  
"Ah! Now I remember!" Geoff exclaimed, thrusting a finger into the air as he did.  
  
The demon then fell down into a seated position, lifted the bottom of his jacket over his knees and began to remove his left shoe. Once that was off, he then set about removing his sock.  
  
Krillin stared in bemusement as Dr Geoff pulled off the item of clothing, turned it upside-down, and began to shake it vigorously.  
  
"I don't know how I managed to forget." The doctor said, "I always keep important things in my left sock, so I will remember where they are."  
  
"Gee. And here I was thinking it was in your right sock." Krillin quipped, trying to take some of the edge of the anxiety he was feeling.  
  
Dr Geoff frowned.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." He said, "Where would I put my car keys?"  
  
Just then, a small metallic object fell from the sock and struck one of the cracked floor tile with a soft chime, which was almost lost amid the sounds of the fracas going on outside. Krillin looked down upon the glinting object. The artefact was no bigger than his thumb, yet it was crafted with exquisite detail. It was a tiny dragon's head, very similar to that which once guarded the gates of hell. Two red pupil-less eyes, carved from perfect ruby, were set into its lustrous hide. However, these eyes did not glow with the ferocity of the former seal's. Instead they were glassy and dead, staring out soullessly from their perfectly fitting sockets. Also the mouth of this beast was closed tight, its miniscule teeth interlocking across its firmly clenched jaws. The carving was attached to a fine gold chain, just large enough to placed around someone's neck.  
  
Krillin knew that the fate of all other-world rested upon this tiny thing, and this was an overwhelming concept to say the least. Momentarily overcome with uncertainty, he looked up from the seal to Dr Geoff as if seeking guidance. The demon smiled knowingly, and nodded his head. With this modest encouragement, Krillin knelt down, grasped the chain, and gently raised the seal from the ground. He took a few moments to look at the enchanting little trinket as it twisted from side to side at the end of its restraint, before carefully lifting it and dropping the chain over his head. Krillin then looked down at the seal one last time. As he noted the slight pressure of the seal against his chest he realised that, once more, he had a cause to fight and an evil to thwart. His existence had meaning.  
  
"You take good care of that, now." Dr Geoff said as he began to replace the removed garments.  
  
"Don't worry Doc." Krillin reassured him, "This little guy's in good hands."  
  
Dr Geoff looked up from his half tied shoelaces to grant Krillin a smile of acknowledgement. But as he looked up at the fighter, the smile began to evaporate from his face, being replaced by a look of trepidation as his gaze passed over Krillin's head. It was then that Krillin noticed that he was standing in a large shadow.  
  
"How adorable." A mocking voice spoke over his shoulder, "But I think it would look better on me."  
  
Krillin's heart picked up the tempo as he turned to face his addresser. As he swivelled through one hundred and eighty degrees, he found himself looking straight up into the hideous visage of Dodoria. The evil fighter was stood so close to Krillin that his ample gut was almost touching the fighter's face, allowing Krillin to feel the laboured rumbling of his breath as it resonated from within his chest.  
  
"Hand it over Earthman." Dodoria said, adopting a more serious tone, "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you don't."  
  
Krillin let out o soft whine between grimacing teeth as he stared wide-eyed into the awful, pink face. He knew that there was unlikely to be any last second rescue this time, as he could still hear the sounds of Zarbon being soundly thrashed emanating from outside. King Vegeta was well and truly occupied, leaving a petrified Krillin to fend for himself. He could feel his muscles tightening up, binding him to the spot like shackles of tissue, and almost threatening to crack the bones to which they were tethered as the hopelessness of his situation bore down upon him. There was nowhere to run. And even if there were, the ties of his terror would surely never allow it.  
  
Then Krillin remembered the promise he had made to Dr Geoff only seconds earlier. He thought of how it had felt to once again have a purpose to exist, and of the innumerable tormented souls that were relying upon him to fulfil that purpose. He couldn't let it end here, with him bound in place by his fear for his own personal safety.  
  
Krillin's muscles suddenly relaxed, releasing him from his bondage and allowing the reinvigorated fighter to leap back from his foe a couple of feet. Furrowing his brow and forcing the last of the anxiety out of his body with a single hard breath, he adopted a poise of readiness for combat. However, as he peered over his raised left hand at his gargantuan adversary, the truly terrible nature of his task began to dawn upon him. Though it didn't appear so to look at him, Dodoria had almost certainly had considerably more of a work out over the past few months than Krillin. Indeed, the same could be said of any of the escapees that now plagued heaven. There was an entire dimension of powerful evil beyond these walls, and who could say just how many now had knowledge of the seal.  
  
The gleaming little bauble was beginning to feel quite heavy around Krillin's neck as the full magnitude of his quest came to bear. He had an eternity of evil to negotiate with a man he scarcely knew, let alone trusted, at his side. But as the weight about his neck grew, so too did the little fighter's resolve. He knew that what was to follow would doubtless be more of a massacre than a fight, but he cared not. For the seal he carried was now his meaning, the material embodiment of his purpose to exist. He had allowed evil to rob him of that purpose more than once before,  
  
"Not again." Krillin muttered, "Not this time."  
. 


	14. Strength In Weakness

Krillin heard the words pass between his lips, but even though he had meant every syllable, a doubt still lingered as to whether he could back them up. Furrowing his brow deliberately, he tried to put up the appearance of readiness. But within, the conflict between his heart's desire to fight and his mind's dissuasive reasoning remained unresolved. Krillin could feel the cooling drops of sweat crawling over his face, and knew that his lack of assuredness would be quite obvious to Dodoria.  
  
"What's this?" Dodoria chortled, "The underdog has some fight in him after all."  
  
The underdog. The underdog. He was always the underdog.  
  
It began with a warm, tense feeling inside his chest. Slowly, it began to move through the rest of his body. Throughout his torso, and his limbs, the strange sensation worked its way through the fighter's muscles and crawled across the surface of his skin. And as he looked into the mocking face of Dodoria, the sensation grew in intensity.  
  
Why was he always the underdog? Why did he always have to be rescued? How could he be expected to protect the weak if he himself was regarded as being little more than that? It was perplexing. It was frightening. But most of all, it was infuriating. As the years had passed, Krillin had watched as the heroes and villains in the story of Earth and the universe had steadily grown in power. At the same time, he had been forced to endure seeing his own strength fade in significance. All the training, all the sweat, all the pain, invariably ended with his being defeated, then bailed out by a stronger fighter. He had become little more than a joke, a comedy relief for evil warriors as they prepared to face their true nemeses. All of this suffering, humiliation and indignity were encapsulated by the look of amused condescension that was splattered across Dodoria's bloated face. Krillin hated it.  
  
In a fleeting moment, the warmth ignited into a blazing heat that engulfed Krillin. He was furious, furious at Dodoria, furious at Zarbon, at Frieza and at Vegeta. He was furious at Goku, at Gohan and Picollo. But most of all, he was absolutely livid with himself. For the weakness was his own.  
  
Krillin cried out as his ki thrust through the barriers that had suppressed it, encompassing the fighter in a spiralling column of superheated air. Throwing his head back and balling his fists, he allowed his full strength to flow forth from within. On and on it went, with Krillin lamenting his anger then replacing each lung full of air as it was exhausted and beginning his cry anew. Even as he reached the very zenith of his strength, he continued to drive himself on, stubbornly refusing to believe that he had tapped fully the extent of his power.  
  
Finally, with his muscles burning and his throat stinging, he accepted the level of strength that he had attained, and once again faced Dodoria. Dodoria, however, was unimpressed. He stood with his arms folded, sniggering quietly to himself.  
  
He was laughing. He was still laughing!  
  
Not pausing for the tiniest moment of thought or reason, Krillin lunged at Dodoria, his fists drawn back with ferocious intent. Still burning with a rage fuelled by humiliation and indignity, he was utterly blinded to the fact he was attacking one far stronger than him. With his fears circumvented, he lashed out with a storm of fists and feet. Unable to see through his misted eyes, Krillin could only feel as the blows met with their target. Every blow fell upon a rock hard surface, suggesting that each and every one was being easily blocked. But this didn't matter to Krillin, for it wasn't Dodoria he was fighting. He was fighting his own weakness, his fears, and his feelings of insignificance. And so, blind and unthinking, the fighter continued to pour his heart and soul into a fight that, at some level at least, he knew he might never win.  
  
Krillin's foot struck something soft. The surprise at the sudden change in consistency of his target was enough to bring Krillin out of his temper tantrum. Withdrawing his fists he backed off a few feet, he wiped the saline from his dewy eyes with his forearm and looked upon his adversary. He found Dodoria standing with one arm at his side, a hand raised to his cheek, and a look of angered surprise on his face. The evil fighter was gently rubbing his face where Krillin had evidently landed a lucky blow.  
  
"Not bad." Dodoria said as his mouth twisted into a smirk, "I didn't think you had it in you. I guess we all have our dark side, hmmm?"  
  
Krillin did not answer. He just hung unsteadily in the air, panting heavily after his exertion.  
  
Dodoria dropped the hand from his face, revealing a deep purple bruise on his left cheek. He then began to pace slowly towards Krillin.  
  
"You know, I wouldn't usually allow someone to attack me like that." He said, "But I felt I could make an exception this time, what with you and I being the close friends that we are."  
  
Dodoria continued to draw closer, but Krillin did not move. With scarcely the energy to hold himself off the ground, or even to maintain his anger, he could only watch as the horrible fighter marched toward him.  
  
"I don't imagine you temperate Earthmen lose your temper like that very often." Dodoria speculated, "I suppose I should feel privileged to have bared witness to such an event."  
  
Dodoria stopped. He was stood only a couple of feet from Krillin, his rancid breath washing over the Earthman's sweat-soaked face. Krillin still did not flinch, though he knew what was coming. He simply hovered before Dodoria, staring into his eyes with a face too tired to even bare an expression.  
  
"And it's like I always say," Dodoria began, "one good turn deserves another."  
  
The hideous warrior then began to draw back his right fist. Krillin watched as he did this. Dodoria's movements were not especially fast, and had Krillin not poured all his energy into his desperate pre-emptive strike he would have easily been able to evade the telegraphed attack. But he was exhausted, and Dodoria knew it. All he could do was wait for it to happen. Dodoria threw the punch.  
  
It didn't hurt at first. All Krillin could feel was a sudden pressure in his midriff, followed the strange sensation of uncontrolled flight. Then, in the instants that followed, a tearing pain began to radiate from the point of impact. It resonated through his body, shaking his insides and flooding his head with a violent ringing. Suddenly, Krillin was consumed by nauseating torrent of stimuli. His sense of equilibrium became utterly confused as the world around became a slur of light and colour, and his head swam with extraneous thought as his mind was overcome by the searing agony that had gripped his whole being. Krillin's bearings were completely lost. Light and dark, colour and sound, up and down, all became amalgamated in a boiling soup of confused sensations. The only thing that his senses could tell him with any certainty was that he was in terrible, terrible pain.  
  
There was a second impact. Cold and unforgiving, the blow seemed to be focused on every part of Krillin's body. An instant of complete disorientation followed as his mind reeled within his head. Then, as the pieces of his shattered senses began to fall back into place, something became apparent to him. He knew which way was down.  
  
Krillin's limp body slid down the hard surface and landed on the ground with a hollow thump. Barely conscious, the fighter sat with his back against whatever cold, solid object he had struck. With a groan of discomfort, he gently cradled his belly with both arms. Krillin blinked hard, then opened his eyes to try and regain his bearings. However his vision was still blurred, and the image it portrayed darted from side to side as his eyes continued to rock in their sockets. Krillin's thoughts were still jumbled, but in spite of this, one thought persistently forced itself to his attention. The seal, it was something about the seal.  
  
"The seal!" Krillin gasped.  
  
He then began paw blindly at his chest in desperate search of the tiny artefact. He then gave a sigh of relief as his hand met with a small, metal object that rested against his skin. It was then that he remembered Dodoria.  
  
Krillin shook his head, fighting to regain full command as his senses. The evil fighter could not be far away, and he had to be ready to protect the seal at all costs. Krillin's struggle was then given fresh impetus as he detected a soft chuckling, and the sound of heavy footfalls approaching. Looking up, Krillin could make out the ample outline of Dodoria as he came towards him. He began to look around. As his eyes steadily refocused, he realised that he was sat against the wall of a small, enclosed room. No, it wasn't a room. It was the elevator, the one that had brought Dr Geoff and his assistants to meet him and King Vegeta.  
  
At first, Krillin fought the urge to panic. The only way out of the elevator was through the door, and that was being quite comprehensively blocked by the massive bulk of the approaching Dodoria. Frantically, he looked about for any other means of escape, but he could find none. Then he looked up.  
  
"Well, this has been fun." Dodoria said as he closed in on the entrance to the elevator, "But I'm afraid its time for me to take care of business."  
  
Krillin put the soles of his feet against the floor, and pushed his body up the smooth metal wall. He could see quite clearly now, though in some respects he wished he could not. Dodoria was drawing in, and his hand was beginning to reach ominously towards the seal. Krillin reached a standing position with one arm pressed across his throbbing abdomen, and his face screwed up as a result of the lingering pain.  
  
"I think it's time for you to hand it over." Said Dodoria.  
  
Krillin took an unsure step away from the wall. Now standing unassisted, he began to rake together what little energy he had in reserve. He then took one more glance upwards, the object of his attention being the access hatch in the ceiling of the elevator.  
  
"I hope that things not bolted on." He muttered to himself, and then closed his eyes.  
  
Dodoria ceased his approach, and grunted in puzzlement at Krillin's utterance. In that moment Krillin squatted down, then immediately drove his legs straight as hard as his aching muscles would allow. The fighter's body was hurled upwards. Within an instant his head had struck the lid of the access hatch. Fortunately the lid was made only from a flimsy sheet of metal, which yielded instantly to Krillin upon impact. Upon feeling the modest force of the collision, the fighter opened his eyes.  
  
Krillin had quickly reached the zenith of his leap, and was now hovering in the pitch-black lift shaft with only his faltering ki for support. Ahead of him he could see a narrow line of light drawn vertically across the darkness. Not wasting any time, he reached forwards and drove his fingers into the illuminated crack and began to force its boundaries apart.  
  
The lift door capitulated to Krillin's will without much of a fight, and slid aside to reveal a large open office space. The floor was dotted with precisely ordered, identically equipped desks. However, none of these desks were occupied. At the opposite end of the office a group of about twenty demons, all wearing white lab coats, were staring out of the broken façade of the building watching the beating that was transpiring in the car park with a fearful fascination.  
  
Krillin hopped down onto the soft, carpeted floor and ran as fast as he could across the office hurdling over the desks rather than circumventing them. Once or twice, his trailing toe caught the flat-screened computer monitor on the desk he was leaping over causing it to topple from its purchase. But Krillin continued on without pause for fear that Dodoria was not far behind him. As he approached the crowd of spectators he cried out,  
  
"Coming through!"  
  
The throng of demons turned mere instants before the fighter was upon them, giving them no time to react. Rather than wait for them to part, Krillin opted to leap over them instead. With the absolute last possible step he could take, Krillin catapulted his body upwards once more. As he sailed just over the heads of the startled demons he felt something clip the end of his left toe.  
  
"Ow, my horn!" came an anguished cry from behind the fighter.  
  
Krillin had no time for an apology as he coasted out of the open face of the tech lab and over the car park. Glancing down, he was able to estimate that he had reached the third or fourth floor of the building in his initial leap up the lift shaft.  
  
He then caught sight of King Vegeta. The Saiyan was now at the heart of the crater that had been left after Zarbon had been driven into the concrete earlier on. He was hanging only a few feet from the bottom of the gaping fissure, raining ferocious punches down upon something that was hidden from Krillin's sight beneath a lingering veil of displaced dust. However, it was obvious what the object of Vegeta's wrath was. The thing that disturbed Krillin most about the scene was that it was highly unlikely that Zarbon was still conscious after the merciless pounding he had received. Regardless of this, King Vegeta continued to have at him without any sign of relenting. The Saiyan's rage had ascended beyond the reach of reason to such an extent that he was still attacking a foe that was not only already defeated, but for whom death could never come.  
  
Krillin's trajectory took him in an arc over the horrifying scene. Then his flight path turned downwards and he began to descend to the ground. He coasted downwards steadily for a few seconds, attempting to use his energy to moderate his fall, before touching down with one hand and one knee on the concrete. He then stood up quickly, dusted the gravel from hand, and turned back towards King Vegeta's position.  
  
However, the Saiyan was now completely hidden from Krillns's view by the debris that was erupting from the crater in sporadic bursts as he continued to pound Zarbon. Krillin could still feel his energy though, and for all the exertion he Vegeta had undertaken, his energy signal was still just as prominent above the tides of power as before.  
  
Now that the seal was in his possession, Krillin was anxious to depart the scene as soon as possible. He hesitated to interrupt Vegeta's activities, though. For a short time he debated the wisdom of attracting the attention of a creature that had been consumed by a primeval blood lust. Krillin soon made the decision to call the Saiyan away however, realising he would probably still need his assistance if he was to safely carry the seal on the return trip to King Yemma's office.  
  
"King Vegeta!" he shouted, "King Vegeta, we've got to go!"  
  
Vegeta did not respond to this call, and the torrent of the blows that he had been pouring forth continued unabated. Krillin grunted in a combination of fear and frustration as Vegeta continued to waste valuable escape time.  
  
"King Vegeta, please! We have to go now!" he cried.  
  
But it was to no avail. King Vegeta was trapped within his own decades old rage, living out a twisted fantasy that he had know doubt spent a great deal of time mulling over as he had rotted in hell. What Krillin was witnessing was the fruition of a foul hatred that he could not even begin to comprehend, and there was no way he was going to be able to tempt King Vegeta away from acting upon his heart's most dark desire.  
  
It was becoming apparent that if Krillin were to make an escape he would have to do it alone. Sighing with resignation, he began to turn from the scene. He allowed his gaze to linger as he did in the vain hope that the hand of reason might touch Vegeta and bring him out of his bestial rage. But this did not happen, and Krillin looked away.  
  
"Going somewhere?"  
  
Krillin almost choked on his own heart as upon turning around he was confronted by Dodoria. The huge fighter was stood with his arms folded, blocking Krillin's path away from the Tech lab. He scowled down upon the Earthman, apparently no longer in a joking mood.  
  
Krillin leapt back from Dodoria, and assumed a defensive posture. The fighter furrowed his brow and grimaced, letting out a rather feeble growl in an effort to feign readiness for battle. In reality, Krillin was terrified. Frantically he scoured his mind for the source of the anger that had driven him to attack Dodoria before, but it was not forthcoming. Without those feelings of outrage to galvanise his courage, Krillin had to fight just to hold his ground.  
  
"Enough messing around." Dodoria snarled, "Give me the seal."  
  
Krillin swallowed hard before replying,  
  
"Over my dead body. . . oh no, wait. . ."  
  
Before Krillin could correct himself, Dodoria lunged at the seal with two huge, grasping hands. Krillin leapt backwards instinctively, narrowly evading the evil fighter's attempt to claim the artefact. Fortunately, it seemed that Dodoria's own ponderous bulk was limiting his movement and that, though he was more than a match for Krillin for raw power, the little fighter had the edge when it came to speed of movement. Dodoria leapt forwards at Krillin once more, his massive hands reaching for the seal that hung about the fighter's neck. Again Krillin bounded away from him, evading his greedy fingers.  
  
Over and over Dodoria pounced at Krillin, only to have the object of his desire narrowly snatched away. The little fighter was hopping and bounding like a startled rodent avoiding the slowly swiping paws of a lumbering predator. Periodically he would glance over his shoulder to navigate as he jumped about in reverse. However, it seemed that with each evasion Dodoria was slowly closing in. Krillin was still low on energy, and was beginning to have trouble staying one step ahead of his pursuer.  
  
You better think of something quick, Krillin; he thought to himself as he sidestepped yet another lunge.  
  
It was then that Krillin spotted two cars parked side by side just a few yards behind Dodoria. Their spotless crimson chassis had miraculously remained unblemished during the various melees that had been going on around them. So pristine were they that Krillin almost regretted what he was about to do.  
  
Dodoria threw himself at Krillin once more, roaring with anger as he did. This time, rather than leaping away, Krillin leapt upwards and, placing both hands on the spiny crown of Dodoria's head, vaulted audaciously over the evil warrior. He then twisted his body through a series dizzying rolls before landing with afoot on the bonnet of each of the two cars and with his legs astride the gap between them. Krillin winced slightly as he felt his feet sink into the fragile metal shells of the vehicles, both of which emitted a shrill squeal as their respective suspensions were compressed.  
  
"My car!" cried out two anguished voices in unison.  
  
Krillin fought the urge to turn to the broken lab building, the source of the voices, and apologise profusely. He needed to maintain full concentration if his scheme were to work.  
  
Dodoria, who had been left grasping at thin air, let slip a bark of frustration. Apparently he was not very pleased about being used as a walking pommel horse. The hulking fighter came about to face Krillin.  
  
"Hold still, damn it." He snarled between his teeth.  
  
Krillin did just that. Raising his hands in a claw-like gesture, the fighter prepared to receive his opponent.  
  
Dodoria charged forth once more, his giant feet crushing the concrete beneath them as he pounded a path towards Krillin. The evil fighter thundered towards his prey, his greedy hands being allowed to lead the way as the foul soul sought to undo his own condemnation. Krillin could conceive of no more terrifying sight than that of the hideous creature that was bearing down upon him, but he was able to control his fear nonetheless.  
  
Steady, Krillin. Steady; he thought to himself.  
  
Meter by earth shattering meter, Dodoria was closing in. The wild look in his eyes intensified as he approached Krillin, but still the Earthman stood his ground. In an instant, Dodoria was upon him.  
  
The final fractions of a second trickled away like a feeble stream negotiating a rocky river bed. Krillin's warrior instincts had kicked in, and were allowing him to see his enemy's final steps in what was almost slow motion. As such, Krillin was able to wait until he could feel the condensation from Dodoria's putrid breath collecting on his skin before he made his move.  
  
In a brazen repeat performance of his previous trick, Krillin once again catapulted himself from Dodoria's uneven head. This time, Krillin was able to hear the shriek of tearing metal as he pirouetted through the air. Though all he could see were the smeared colours and warped shapes of a rapidly rotating world, these sounds alone were proof enough that phase one of his plan had gone as hoped.  
  
Krillin landed on the fractured concrete floor. Before him he could see Dodoria, with his hands having punctured the bonnets of each of the cars, appearing to be wearing them like a pair of oversized boxing gloves. The fighter was shaking his arms around, attempting to free them of the ruptured metal bodywork. As he did so, he growled and snarled a number of incompressible phrases that Krillin could only guess were in his native tongue. The cars seemed to echo Dodoria's sentiments, screeching and groaning as they were buffeted about.  
  
As amusing as this scene was, Krillin was still totally focussed on the task at hand. Holding his hands out from his side, the fighter began to siphon what energy he could from his dwindling reserves. Gradually, a steady stream of power began to flow from his shallow reservoir of ki. It ran in a steady cascade down his out stretched arms, and began to collect in his exposed palms.  
  
Dodoria was still struggling with his new set of gloves, seeming to become more infuriate with each failed attempt at escape. Then he stopped. Krillin looked on nervously as the rotund fighter eyed the vehicles, attempting to think his way out of his predicament. This was a worrying development, as the collection of power that Krillin had undertaken was progressing at an infuriating slow rate.  
  
Dodoria pondered his options for a moment, then raised his right foot and placed it on the bonnet of the corresponding car. Using this to increase his leverage, the warrior leaned his ample frame backwards. The car groaned and creaked as Dodoria heaved at his arm, it's hindquarters rearing up off the ground as he did. Then with a metallic screech, Dodoria's right arm was freed of its crimson shackle allowing the car's rear to drop to the ground with a weary groan. He then raised his left foot and began the process anew.  
  
Krillin groaned anxiously as he realised he was running out of time. Gritting his teeth, he began to will the energy to the collection points with renewed vigour, desperately racing Dodoria to being prepared for the next bout of their contest. Unfortunately, it was becoming less and less likely that Krillin would beat Dodoria to the punch, as the Villainous fighter began to haul his arm from car bonnet. Suddenly, there came the sound shearing metal. Dodoria was free.  
  
"No, no." Krillin muttered, "I need more time."  
  
Fortunately, it appeared that Dodoria was in no rush. The fighter looked down at his freed hands, and examined them as he wriggled his thick fingers. He then balled them into tightly clenched fists, grunting as he did, and began to turn to face Krillin.  
  
"C'mon," Krillin hissed between his teeth, "Just a few more seconds."  
  
Dodoria's eyes fell upon Krillin, and he smiled wickedly as he realised that the Earthman was building up power for an attack. He began to widen his gate, lowering his centre of mass in readiness to receive the attack.  
  
Krillin maintained his composure without, but within, he allowed himself the luxury of a little smile. As with so many evil fighter's, Dodoria seemed all too eager to display his strength by taking an opponents attack on the chin. This was usually especially the case if their opponent was weaker than they were.  
  
Dodoria reached forwards with both arms, and splayed out his hands into a blocking position. He then signalled his readiness with a loud grunt.  
  
At this Krillin breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly saying,  
  
"It's now or never."  
  
--- ------- ----------- -------------  
  
Note for Serendipity: I ended "things like this" again! Sorry. I guess I must have a sadistic streak. : )  
. 


	15. Motives

Note: One of the things that will start to become apparent from this chapter on is that I'll be using quite a lot artistic licence when describing the conditions in hell. There are more notes, but they've been placed at the end of the chapter as they contain a mild spoiler for said chapter.  
  
---- ---- ---  
  
Krillin drew his hands back sharply then flung them forward with equal force, crying out as he did. In a blinding flash of ki energy, two luminescent orbs leapt from the palms of Krillin's hands. The projectiles rasped through the air towards Dodoria, leaving a trail of blazing energy in their wake.  
  
Once again Krillin's combat instinct overrode his higher reasoning, allowing him to observe diligently the progress of his attack as it raced towards its target. Able to watch the ki blasts in flight at a greatly slowed rate Krillin kept his hands held out before him, using them as a focus for his mind as he controlled the trajectory of his attack. As the motions of a conductor's baton might manipulate the pitch and volume of an orchestra, each subtle movement of Krillin's appendages would result in a slight alteration in the path of the orbs.  
  
Dodoria appeared to be enjoying the show. The smile that was carved across his mountainous head continued spread slowly, made all the more ominous by the greatly slowed passage of time.  
  
The orbs of energy drew closer and closer to Dodoria, but the brute showed no sign of flinching. This suited Krillin down to the ground. The fighter looked on intently as his attack drew within meters, centimetres, millimetres of Dodoria. Then, just as the last of his opponent's grotesque features were obscured by the glare of the ki blasts Krillin flung his hands apart.  
  
The orbs responded to the direction by parting mere instants before striking what had appeared to be their intended target. This was greeted by a look of surprise and puzzlement from Dodoria.  
  
Then Krillin threw his hands skywards, as if signalling for some great crescendo. This resulted in the orbs rocketing upwards towards the pinkish- grey sky. In one final motion, Krillin signalled for the big finish by driving his hands downwards. The orbs responded in kind, reaching a zenith in their course before plunging directly downwards.  
  
Dodoria glanced over his shoulder in bemusement just in time to see each ki blest plunge through the bonnet of each of the cars that were sat behind him. The two vehicles shrieked and groaned as they were struck, bouncing about on their battered suspensions in protest. There then followed an ominous silence.  
  
Dodoria looked back at Krillin inquisitively, his expression begging an explanation for the fighter's actions. Krillin's reply was simply to give a mischievous smirk, and plug his ears with his fingers.  
  
There was a thunderous roar, and two mighty lobes of angry red flame engulfed Dodoria as the two cars were eviscerated from within by a combination of ki energy and igniting fuel. The sound easily overwhelmed Krillin's defence of his ears, almost deafening him. The fighter squinted as the shockwave from the violent reaction crashed down upon him and washed over him in a great flood of suffocating heat and fumes.  
  
Coughing and hacking Krillin unplugged his ears, then covered his mouth with one hand and shielded his face with the other. Peering round his forearm he saw the furious pyre. The blaze thrashed and writhed like a snared demon with a blackened tail that spiralled towards the blighted heavens. Occasionally it would expose horns of twisted metal, before retracting them into its fiery red body once more. And somewhere, within the belly of this beast, was Dodoria.  
  
Krillin turned from the scene, and began to run towards the periphery of the car park. Though his plan to enhance his own attack using the explosive force of the combusting car fuel had been a complete success, he did not grant himself the time for self-congratulation. It went without saying that Dodoria was not destroyed. Indeed, even in life such an ordeal would probably not have been enough to kill the warrior. It did seem that it had been enough to incapacitate him, though there was no way to tell for how long. As such, Krillin was not going to squander any more time in his escape.  
  
But as he scampered away he caught wind of Vegeta, who was still pounding an unconscious Zarbon. Though Krillin had no pity whatsoever for the evil Zarbon, the thought of the once proud King Vegeta taking out his past frustrations upon what was at the moment little better than a corpse was a sad one. Once again, Krillin was consumed with pity for the fallen monarch. Sighing, he turned back to the crater that housed Vegeta and Zarbon.  
  
"King Vegeta!" He called, "I'm leaving now!"  
  
As Krillin had expected here was no response. Grumbling at the pressure he was being put under by his conscience, he tried again.  
  
"King Vegeta, please! We have to get back to King Yemma's office!"  
  
Again, there was nothing. Krillin tried to leave once more, but one last pang of guilt was enough to convince him to make one last attempt.  
  
"King Vegeta, I've got the seal and. . ."  
  
Krillin was cut of as the commotion from within the clouds of dust subsided suddenly. It seemed that Krillin's mention of the seal had succeeded in attracting Vegeta's attention.  
  
For a moment, all that could be heard was the bass growling of the blaze as it feasted upon the fuel that had spawned it, and the tortured howls that rode the wind as it weaved between the exposed infrastructure of the lab.  
  
"We must leave immediately." Came a stern voice from within the plume of debris.  
  
Then, a silhouetted figure began to manifest from within the swirls of dust. King Vegeta, his hair thick with dust and his armour caked in debris, melted into view. Once again, he was carrying himself with the dignity and regality that befitted one of his former station. This figure was almost unrecognisable from the snarling animal that had been mauling Zarbon only moments ago.  
  
As the Saiyan emerged into the tame light of day, his gaze became snagged upon Krillin. He ceased his approached, and stared at the fighter. Krillin returned the gaze, whining nervously as he was unsure of why Vegeta was so transfixed by him. It was then that he realised that King Vegeta was not looking at him, but at the sparkling trinket that was suspended from his neck. This realisation just made Krillin even more uneasy. He had yet to be fully convinced of Vegeta's intentions, and his total fixation with the seal was beginning to make Krillin suspicious. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact with Vegeta, Krillin lifted the seal from his chest and dropped it inside his tunic.  
  
"I think it's time we were going." He said.  
  
He then began to turn away from Vegeta, keeping a cautious eye on him as he did so. Turning his back on him reluctantly, Krillin called upon his ailing ki once more and rose into the air. Simultaneously he could feel King Vegeta's energy rise as he too took to the sky. For once, Krillin hoped that Vegeta did not follow behind him. At least that way he would be able to keep an eye on him.  
  
-----  
  
Krillin was locked in thought. The horrid sounds of torment and the bitter taste of destruction that hung in the air were pushed to the back of his consciousness as he pondered. During the first few minutes of his journey from the lab, he had fretted constantly about whether or not he and King Vegeta would be followed by Zarbon and Dodoria. He had sought to comfort himself by dwelling on the fact that both had been very much immobilised by his own efforts and those of his travelling companion, but his mind had remained preoccupied by the chilling discovery that the two evil fighters had developed a way to mask their energy signals. Over and over, Krillin would peer nervously over his shoulder for any sign of the pair, as he knew he would not be able to sense them even at close range.  
  
Zarbon and Dodoria never appeared, however, and it had been further few minutes before Krillin had managed to deduce why. It was almost certain that upon recovering from their respective ordeals they would have remained at the Tech Lab long enough to destroy it. It was only logical that they would destroy the source of any possible replacement before they sought to acquire the seal once more. This made Krillin's tiny cargo all the more precious, and the fate of Other-world all the more uncertain.  
  
Also, Krillin could not help but spare a thought for the unfortunate band of demons that worked at the lab. It had been he who had brought this fate upon them, in both his involvement with the seal and in his past dealings with Zarbon and Dodoria. But Krillin quelled his guilt, for as long as he had the seal he would have the chance to right his follies.  
  
Krillin disembarked his train of thought, and cast a glance up at King Vegeta. He had done this on several occasions since they had left the lab and now, as before, he found that Vegeta seemed on edge. The Saiyan's gaze was darting feverishly around the landscape, apparently scouring it for any imminent danger. His fingers ground against his palms within his tightly clenched fists, betraying his anxiety. Each time Krillin had hazarded a look at Vegeta, he appeared to have become yet more tense.  
  
On occasion, Krillin would catch Vegeta as he stole a glance at him, or more accurately, the seal. Though the artefact was well hidden from the monarch's view, it seemed as though his razor sharp eyes were cutting straight through Krillin to reach the object of his concern. This unsettled the fighter, who would flinch and quickly break eye contact with Vegeta. He could sense that something was building within the king, something with which he would soon be confronted.  
  
Krillin's heart skipped a beat as he sensed a sudden spike in King Vegeta's ki. This heralded an increase in speed of flight of the Saiyan who quickly overtook the Earthman, his course taking him directly into Krillin's path. Vegeta then turned to face the fighter.  
  
Krillin could feel his body becoming heavy with dread as the imposing form of King Vegeta settled into a position that blocked his way. Slowing down gradually, he prepared himself for the confrontation he had hoped would not occur ever since he had convinced a sceptical King Yemma to allow King Vegeta to accompany him on his mission.  
  
Oh man, I hope he's just stopping for a breather; he thought nervously to himself.  
  
But Krillin knew what was really afoot. Sure enough, Vegeta thrust out an expectantly open hand and commanded,  
  
"Hand over the seal."  
  
Krillin's worst fears were being realised. He began to feel queasy as it dawned on him that in putting his trust in King Vegeta, he might have made the mistake that would cost countless innocents their immortal souls. There was no way he would be able to keep the seal from the Saiyan if he chose to come and take it. But he had to try. If nothing else it was his responsibility, as had been King Vegeta.  
  
"I said, give me the seal!" Vegeta reiterated, his patience rapidly degrading.  
  
Swallowing hard, Krillin gave his defiant reply,  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
Vegeta's eyes widened at this. He seemed surprised that anyone would dare defy him in such a way. His eyebrows then furrowed as his chagrin at this act of insubordination came to the fore.  
  
"Do not test me, little one." He snarled, "Give me the seal."  
  
Krillin had to fight with every ounce of his remaining strength just to force a single, tiny word past his tensed jaw,  
  
"No."  
  
"I must have the seal, Damn you!" was Vegeta's chillingly pertinent response, "It will be safer with me."  
  
Krillin was not having any of it. He would not surrender the seal. The stakes were just too high.  
  
"I can look after it just fine." Krillin stated, trying to quell the anxious waver in his voice.  
  
He then raised his right hand and placed it over the seal, which lay concealed beneath his tunic. This elicited a growl of frustration from Vegeta.  
  
"There is no time for this foolishness!" Vegeta barked, "I demand that you give me the seal!"  
  
King Vegeta's power level was climbing with each angry word, a detail that had not gone unnoticed by Krillin. But the fighter remained composed.  
  
"I'm not giving you the seal." He reiterated, "I'm the one who volunteered for this mission, it's my responsibility. And besides. . . how do I know I can trust you?"  
  
"What?" snarled Vegeta.  
  
"You heard me." Krillin replied, "I don't trust you."  
  
This stark reply was indicative of Krillin's growing confidence. He could see a parallel developing between this exchange and that between Vegeta and Zarbon back at the lab, and unless he had gravely missed his guess, he would be able to push the Saiyan a lot further than would normally be possible.  
  
"You would doubt my word?" Vegeta asked in a voice loaded with quiet outrage.  
  
"Well, why shouldn't I?" Krillin asked in return, "I mean, you just show up out of nowhere and start giving orders and asking for people to trust without any explanations or even a please or a thank you. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that the only thing you're interested in is getting your mite on the seal."  
  
"And what of it?" Vegeta said, making no effort to deny the accusation, "My reasons are mine and mine alone. I have never had to explain myself to anyone before, and I am not about to start now. Now stop wasting my time and give me the seal."  
  
"I told you, no." Krillin defied the will of the king once more.  
  
He could still sense Vegeta's power rising, but he could not stand down now. Not when he was sure he was close to exposing Vegeta's motives.  
  
"I don't know what you'd do with it." He continued, "For all I know you might want to destroy it."  
  
"Do not be absurd!" Vegeta roared, "Did you not see me defend the seal with your own eyes! You insult me with your ridiculous accusations!"  
  
This defence did not cut it with Krillin.  
  
"All I saw was you freaking out on Zarbon because he dissed your kid." Krillin said, "And so what if you were defending the seal? Maybe you just want it for yourself as part of some cockamamie scheme to take over this dimension. I know all about you Saiyans and conquering stuff."  
  
Vegeta was furious, and his energy was boiling over accordingly. Gradually a hazy white aura began to envelope the Saiyan, almost appearing to happen without his knowledge. The steadily intensifying glow was serving as a warning to Krillin that Vegeta was reaching his maximum tolerance, but the fighter was intent on persisting with his defiance. He meant everything he had said, and he wasn't going to surrender the seal to anyone but King Yemma.  
  
Suddenly, the gentle aura ignited into a brilliant inferno as King Vegeta seized control of his mighty ki. With his eyes blazing with a fury to match that of his own formidable power, Vegeta began to issue an ominous warning.  
  
"Give me the seal, or so help me . . ."  
  
"Or what?" Krillin cut him off, "Or you'll kill me? News flash, buddy, I'm already dead!"  
  
Vegeta did not retort. Rather, his reply came in the form of low growl that steadily rose in volume as he initiated his final climb to full power. The blaze that had engulfed him began to writhe and pulse with an ever- increasing vigour, kicking up a strong breeze as it did. The breeze quickly evolved into a powerful wind, and from there became a howling gale, which whipped and curled around the Saiyan. Above him, the thick clouds of dust and smoke that had accumulated in the skies began to twist and swirl. Slowly, the smog began to part as it was rended by the violent air currents, appearing to stand aside as a gesture of respect for the astounding power that was being unleashed below.  
  
Krillin squinted as his eyes were assaulted by a hale of uprooted grass stems. King Vegeta was nearing the plateau of his incredible power, and Krillin fought to avoid sensing the extent of the Saiyans ki for fear of what he would find.  
  
Why do I keep doing this; He asked of himself.  
  
But he was still not going to back down. He had one trump card left, and it appeared that the time was fast approaching for it to be played.  
  
Vegeta, shrouded in light and beset by a spiralling swarm of debris, was poising himself for an attack. Turning himself sideways on to Krillin, he drew back an open hand and began pour energy into the cup of its exposed palm.  
  
"Give me the seal!" he roared over the maelstrom of his own power, "I will not warn you again!"  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Krillin said, dropping his hand from over the seal, "You wouldn't want to destroy the seal."  
  
Vegeta stared at Krillin, his face unchanged. The Saiyan remained an all to intimate portrait of anger, but he did not attack.  
  
Krillin stared anxiously into the eyes of his one time ally, occasionally deviating to the horrifying reservoir of ki energy that had accumulated in the Saiyan's right hand. The precariousness of the situation was more than the Earthman could bear. Something had to give.  
  
"Well, are you gonna attack or not?" Krillin blurted out, most probably having intended only to think this rather than say it.  
  
Before Krillin could curse his fraught nerves, Vegeta cried out in anger, and twisted his torso in readiness to unleash his wrath.  
  
In a panic induced knee-jerk, Krillin shouted,  
  
"No, Vegeta, don't! You'll destroy the seal!"  
  
These words seemed to bind Vegeta as he froze on the very cusp of attack.  
  
Krillin's eyes were as wide as they could be. The fighter was frozen like a startled animal caught in the sights of predator. The fact was, he didn't know whether or not the seal could be destroyed by such an attack, but as of that moment, that speculation was all that was standing between him and the beating of his after-life. Feeling inclined to reinforce his point he suppressed his fear and continued,  
  
"I've seen one of these things break before. They're not as strong as they look."  
  
Vegeta held his aggressive stance, but his ki was beginning to wane. Once again, the king's battered pride was proving his weakness as he failed to quell the challenge of a far weaker fighter. His body still burned with energy, but the fury that fuelled the flames was beginning to wilt. Above, the exposed patch of pink sky was slowly consumed once more as the gap in dull brown smog began to close, shrinking along with Vegeta's energy signal.  
  
King Vegeta was holding the same threatening pose in defiance of his weakening ki, but his expression of rage was beginning waver. Going back on his previous pledge, he spoke.  
  
"I must have the seal. . . please." he rasped.  
  
Krillin did not reply. Nor could he. The fighter had been struck dumb by this incredible change in Vegeta's attitude. It seemed that his pride had finally reached its end. So defeated was he, that he had been reduced to begging favour from a lesser being.  
  
Pity overtook Krillin, and he resolved that such a softening of Vegeta's position warranted no less in return. And what was more, he was now in the perfect position to get what he had wanted since he had stood up for the Saiyan in King Yemma's office.  
  
"If you want this seal," he said, "then you have to tell me why you want it so bad."  
  
The words drifted through the lukewarm air and dissipated in the gentle breeze. Krillin watched and listened intently for any sign of a response from Vegeta. Gradually, a soft growl became audible. It held a steady volume for some seconds as Vegeta, his eyes now gazing introspectively to the distant horizon, debated with himself the offer that had been tabled. Krillin too emitted a gentle rumble as he anxiously awaited a reply.  
  
Suddenly, Vegeta's eyes became locked upon Krillin once more. The growl escalated into a roar as Vegeta voiced his frustration like a caged animal growing weary of testing the boundaries of its prison. He then raised his right hand aloft, thrusting the still glowing orb of ki energy upwards along with it.  
  
Krillin's pulse began to race, and every one of his muscles became rigidly tense. He felt sure that he had provoked Vegeta into an attack. Cursing his arrogant overconfidence in his own judgement of character, Krillin braced himself as best he could for what was to come.  
  
Vegeta's energy surged once more, but rather than unleash it in a devastating assault, the Saiyan grasped tightly the energy in his hand. Krillin looked on perplexed as Vegeta crushed the tiny star harder and harder, causing it to glow ever more intensely as it entered into its death throes. Then, with a thunderous roar worthy of a true nova, the orb collapsed under the pressure and spewed out its contents in a brilliant starburst of heat and light.  
  
Krillin shielded his eyes as, for an instant, he was washed over by the wave of power. The shockwave was short-lived, however, and an uneasy calm was soon restored to the tormented meadows.  
  
Krillin looked upon King Vegeta once more. The Saiyan was hanging motionless in the air with his back semi-turned to the fighter. His hands lay limp and open at his sides, and his head turned away fully. Another thing that Krillin noticed was Vegeta's intrinsic power, the energy outputted by all beings regardless of whether they have 'powered up', was almost undetectable. It was not that his power had shrunk. Not by any means. Rather, it was as if his spirit was distant, existing somewhere far away in another place, perhaps even another time.  
  
"So, you wish to know why I would help restore this world?" said Vegeta.  
  
Krillin allowed his words a couple of seconds to sink in before replying,  
  
"That's all I ask."  
  
Vegeta took a loud breath.  
  
"It began many years ago, I am not certain exactly how many, when my people made a. . . I made a pact with a creature known as Frieza. Before that time, my people had ruled our world, having wiped out all resistance to our supremacy. But our technology was limited, and with no adversaries to fight we had found our warrior spirit was stagnating."  
  
"And Frieza offered you a way of your world." Krillin interjected.  
  
"When Frieza came," Vegeta continued without acknowledging Krillin's input, "offering a way for the Saiyan race to satiate its warrior instincts throughout the unfathomable depths of space, it was too tempting an offer to be refused. In exchange, we would wipe out species and hand their worlds over to Frieza. It seemed like a small price to pay, as all we desired was destruction. Acquisition of worlds meant little to us. But as time went on, Frieza's demands upon us became ever more extreme. He took sole command of our armies, imposed limits on the number of Saiyans that could travel together off-world, he even began to take the strongest of our children for 'special training'. At first we tried to resist, but in response Frieza threatened to strip us of the space faring technologies that he had granted us. We found we could not let such treasures go. Galactic conquest had become like a drug to us, and we could not bear to have such freedom taken away. And so, when the day came for my own son to be taken for induction into Frieza's special forces, I did not resist. But my compliance was short lived. The young Prince Vegeta was the only heir to the Great Throne of Vegeta. He could not be allowed to spend his life in the service of Frieza as he was needed on our own world. And so, my forces and I moved against Frieza. In a single move, we intended to destroy his army based on Vegeta and seize his ships. A move that was intended to be crowned by my own glorious victory over Frieza in hand-to-hand combat."  
  
Vegeta paused, taking another slow, deliberate breath.  
  
"I was defeated easily." He said, ruefully, "I was sent to the next world, with my whole race in toe, but for my son. Frieza kept my son for his own vile purposes."  
  
Vegeta then cast a single eye over his shoulder to Krillin.  
  
"You must understand that, as a Saiyan, my son was brought up amid a culture of destruction. His heart was not pure; it never stood a chance of becoming so. But destruction was what came naturally to us. We knew no better. We were like cruel children delighting in the torment of insects. But Frieza was different. The horror he wrought was calculated and coolly deliberate. He revelled in destruction, delighting in it and benefiting from it in every manner imaginable. There were times when his atrocities sickened even me. And this is the monster to which I have bequeathed my son. In his hands, there is no telling what kind of twisted creature the Prince has become."  
  
Krillin listened with deep fascination to this old story told from a new perspective. It was clear that King Vegeta had spent his years in the pit assessing his past mistakes and wallowing in his own personal hell, trapped forever in an inferno of guilt and regret.  
  
Vegeta went on,  
  
"Then, some time ago, certain rumblings began to drift through the darkness. There were whispers that the Prince of Saiyans had arrived, but had then departed just as quickly. At first I was not sure what it meant. For a time, I thought I had been granted the blessing of madness. But then, there was also the possibility that the rumours were true, and that my son had been granted a second chance at life. This is why I have chosen to help return the damned to hell. While my son lives, there is a chance that he may redeem himself, and be spared the eternal horrors unto which I condemned both my people and myself when I struck a deal with the devil Frieza. But if paradise is consumed by the underworld, then redemption will mean nothing, and my son will be damned regardless."  
  
And so, Krillin had his answer. He was doing it for his son. He was willing to return himself to hell, along with countless other souls, in order to maintain a chance of eternal peace for a single soul who may well already be beyond redemption. The fate of all Other-World rested upon the love of a father for his son. Slowly, the hope that had all but deserted Krillin began to rally once more.  
  
"So now you know." Vegeta said, "If you choose to believe me, then that is your prerogative, and so too if you do not. You may keep the seal if you so desire, it is of know concern to me."  
  
Krillin knew that those last words were not true. And as he watched Vegeta turn away and slowly and dejectedly begin to move off, he pondered his next course of action. When he had asked Vegeta to divulge his motive, he had not expected to receive anything more than some angry posturing followed by a reluctant backing-down, as he had seen before. But now that he had heard the full story, Krillin found that he was being forced to reconsider his position. He did not want to trust Vegeta. It just didn't seem wise. But the story that had been told with such bitter emotion was weighing ever more heavily on Krillin's conscience. The sacrifice that Vegeta claimed to be willing to make for his son was awe-inspiring. And what made it all the more convincing was that as Krillin thought about it, he realised that, if put in King Vegeta's position, he would do the same.  
  
Krillin reached into his tunic and extracted the seal. Allowing it to rest exposed on the palm of his hand, he stared into its lifeless eyes and recalled the last words he had heard from Yemma as he had departed his office.  
  
"I hope not, King Yemma." He muttered, "For all our sakes."  
  
Krillin then looked up at the receding King Vegeta, and sucked in a lung- full of muggy air.  
  
"King Vegeta!" he yelled after the Saiyan.  
  
Vegeta stopped, and looked back over his shoulder.  
  
"I think this will be safer with you." Said Krillin.  
  
Lifting the chain over his neck, he took one last look at the seal, and then pitched it as hard as he could at King Vegeta.  
  
The little gold trinket hurtled through the air like a glistening comet, its chain trailing it as a shimmering tail. Even as its true form was lost to Krillin as it grew ever more distant, its auric glow continued to draw out its trajectory.  
  
As the seal reached him, Vegeta raised an open hand and allowed the seal to strike his palm. He then clasped his fingers around it tightly, and brought his closed fist before him. Opening his hand once more, he examined the contents.  
  
Krillin looked on anxiously as he awaited King Vegeta's reaction. He was certain that what happened next would make or break his quest.  
  
Please don't laugh evilly. Please don't laugh evilly. Please don't laugh evilly; Krillin begged of Vegeta in his mind.  
  
Vegeta looked over the seal for several seconds before finally looking up at Krillin. From that range, the Earthman could barely make out the subtle response of the Saiyan. However, he was certain that it was a nod of gratitude.  
  
Krillin breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was only then that he realised just how fatigued the occurrences of the past few minute had left him. Exhausted from his frank exchange with Vegeta, he chose to watch for a few seconds as his travelling companion began to move away once more.  
  
After a few moments, Vegeta paused, causing Krillin to frown quizzically and slightly worriedly. The saiyan stared at Krillin for some time before the fighter's tired mind reached its conclusion. Vegeta wanted Krillin to follow him.  
  
Krillin smiled to himself. It seemed that, to some extent at least, he had finally earned some respect from King Vegeta. With his heart fuelled by a renewed hope, Krillin set off for King Yemma's office once more.  
  
--- --- ---  
  
Note II: The Revenge: The recap of the events that led to the destruction of the planet Vegeta were based directly on those described in the show. As such, I take no credit for that part of the story.  
  
No cliffhanger this time. 


	16. The Gathering

So, Broken Seal has returned. Sorry about the delay, but I. . . erm. . . well, I'm afraid I don't really have a good excuse. I just got wrapped up in another story. Again, my apologies to those who were reading, especially Serendipity. I would have emailed you, but I couldn't find an address.  
  
Anyway, back to business.  
  
Note: There may be a noticeable change in my style since I last added to the story. I hope to remedy any serious discrepancies in the next rewrite.  
  
***  
  
Krillin coasted to the ground. The fighter set down a few meters behind King Vegeta, who was now stood before the doors of King Yemma's office. The return journey from the Tech lab had been mercifully uneventful, marred only by the grim ambience of a world corrupted. There had been no conversation either. Krillin for one was too worn out for such repartee after his confrontation with Dodoria and his frank exchange with Vegeta. And though the proud Saiyan would never admit it, krillin could sense a slight dip in Vegeta's energy since his own exertions.  
  
Krillin trotted up the path, pulled up alongside Vegeta and looked up at the battered doors. They had been closed since the two had been gone, though one still hung crookedly from its hinges, leaving visible a sliver of the scene beyond. Ducking down, Krillin peered through the gap at the bottom. Through it he could just about see King Yemma sat at his desk. The great ogre's face was a picture of anxiety as he spoke softly yet firmly into his telephone receiver.  
  
There was a loud creek. Krillin looked up to see Vegeta brazenly shoving the one well-hinged door aside. The barrier reeled back quickly, swinging through a wide arc before striking the inside wall with a resounding crash. Krillin winced as he heard the subsequent patter of shattered plasterwork falling to the ground.  
  
Vegeta promptly strode forwards, seemingly unperturbed by how Yemma might react. Krillin did not share his confidence, and leaned cautiously around the crooked door to gauge the ogre's mood.  
  
Yemma, however, appeared unmoved by Vegeta's display. Much as with his and Krillin's earlier visit, Yemma seemed more concerned with his call than by their presence.  
  
"Uh-huh, yes." The ogre uttered. "And you still can't break them up? How many? But how could they. . . okay. Right."  
  
Krillin edged around the door and followed Vegeta to the foot of Yemma's desk. This conversation did not sound good. It seemed that with every muffled word that escaped Yemma's enormous ear and drifted into Krillin's, the ogre would become more unsettled. Krillin had seen the great ogre to be concerned, even distressed by the events of the past day or so. But for the first time, and he hoped for the last, the fighter felt certain what he saw in the mighty demon's dark eyes was fear. He dared not guess what could inspire it in one such as King Yemma.  
  
"But you already have everyone I can spare." Yemma went on. "I know, but. . . hello. . . hello?"  
  
Yemma drew the receiver from his face, and peered down at it for a moment as if he did not know what it was he was holding. He then dropped it back onto the hook and leaned back into his chair, an action which was greeted by a creak not unlike that of a toppling tree.  
  
"King Yemma!" Barked Vegeta.  
  
"What? Whose there?" Yemma replied, leaping to his feet.  
  
He then glanced down at the fighters before him.  
  
"Oh, you're back." he observed.  
  
Apparently, whatever horror had been unfolded to him during his phone call had been so distracting, he had not even noticed their arrival.  
  
"Did you get it?" he asked urgently.  
  
"We sure did." Krillin replied. "Sure took some doing though. You'll never guess who. . ."  
  
"Yes, yes." Yemma interrupted, and then thrust out an immense cupped hand at Krillin. "Quickly, give it here."  
  
Krillin looked at the hand for a moment. Apparently, Yemma expected *him* to be carrying the seal. Or maybe that was just what he had hoped. Until this moment, Krillin had not considered how Yemma might react to Vegeta's bearing of the artefact.  
  
With a grin and a nervous titter, Krillin turned to Vegeta.  
  
"Uh, King Vegeta?" he said.  
  
But Vegeta had already begun to extract the seal from beneath his breastplate, under the horrified gaze of King Yemma. Pulling its lustrous chain over his generous head of hair, the Saiyan took the seal in his hand and then tossed it into Yemma's waiting palm.  
  
The ogre looked down at the object in his hand for a moment, still bearing a look of surprise. Suddenly, he wrapped his giant fingers around it and pulled it back. Then, opening up his hand, he began to examine the seal, prodding it around with the index finger of his free hand.  
  
"Is everything alright?" Krillin asked, tentatively.  
  
Yemma did not respond. Instead, he just mumbled to himself as he looked over his acquisition. Then, with a relieved sigh, he leaned back, opened a desk drawer and dropped the seal into its depths.  
  
"Good work, boys, good work." he rumbled as he shut the drawer.  
  
Yemma still seemed unsettled, however. This in turn was unsettling Krillin.  
  
"What are you doing?" Vegeta asked of Yemma, indignantly.  
  
"What do you mean, what am I doing?" Yemma replied.  
  
"Why do you not deploy the seal now?" Vegeta said.  
  
Yemma's cast of disquiet turned to one of annoyance as the second round of Kingly hostilities appeared ready to begin.  
  
"I'll 'deploy the seal' in my own good time." He replied, angrily.  
  
Krillin thought it more than likely that Yemma had a very good reason for storing the seal for now, but it seemed he would rather take exception to Vegeta's tone than to simply explain his actions.  
  
"We do not have time to waste on such delays." Vegeta insisted. "We must use it now."  
  
"Hey guys?" Krillin spoke up.  
  
"Silence!" both Kings roared.  
  
Krillin's shoulders dropped, as did his face.  
  
Not this again; he thought to himself.  
  
"As I was saying," Yemma went on, "I don't take orders from you. You might have been a king back on your home planet, but I'm the one who wears the trousers around here."  
  
"This has nothing to do with who is King and who is not." Vegeta retorted. "The longer we delay, the more difficult our task will become."  
  
"*Our* task?" Yemma said. "I don't remember inviting you onto this team."  
  
"I do not need an invitation to go where I am needed!" Vegeta barked.  
  
"Needed? I don't *need* anybody."  
  
"Nonsense! You are in desperate need of strong fighters. One need only look beyond your doors to see that."  
  
Yemma slammed his hands down on his desk, causing the whole room to quiver with shock.  
  
"Oh, is that right!" He yelled. "Well then, Mr tough guy, why don't you go fight that army on your own?"  
  
A silence fell across the room.  
  
Krillin swallowed hard. For a moment, he ran through the words that Yemma had dispensed, making sure that he had heard correctly. Then, unhappy with the results of his analysis, he asked gingerly,  
  
"Did you say. . . army?"  
  
Yemma relaxed back into his chair.  
  
"Uh. . . no. No, I didn't say anything." he lied.  
  
"King Yemma," Vegeta said, stepping forward, "I demand to know of what army you speak."  
  
"Look, I already said I didn't say anything." Yemma reiterated. "It must have been the wind, or something."  
  
"Come on, King Yemma," Krillin said, regaining his composure after his initial uncertainty, "we might be able to help."  
  
Yemma opened his mouth for yet another denial, but then sighed resignedly instead. It seemed that the offer of help was too tempting to simply pass up; a fact that made Krillin all the more uneasy, since this only served to highlight just how desperate the situation had become.  
  
"I lose more classified information that way." Yemma muttered.  
  
Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together.  
  
"Okay, I'll brief you on what's been happening." Yemma began. "But you're not gonna like. A little more than an hour ago, reports began to come in that condemned souls were congregating at the entrance to the underworld. It started off with just a few dozen. But then more began to show up. A few dozen became a hundred. A hundred became a few hundred. And then. . . well, I don't have to draw you a picture."  
  
"Then why not simply break up this gathering?" Vegeta asked.  
  
"Hey, on any other day that would be a piece of cake for a guy with my resources." Yemma stated. "But in case you haven't noticed, my resources are a bit stretched right now."  
  
Vegeta looked upon Yemma disapprovingly. Though he said little, Krillin cold tell that once again, he was not impressed by the ogre's lack of control over his own domain.  
  
Krillin's mind soon turned to other matters. Raising a hand tentatively so as not to invite another slapping down, he asked a question, the answer to which he was not even sure he wanted to know.  
  
"Uh, King Yemma. Exactly how many of them are there now?"  
  
Yemma let out a rumbling sigh.  
  
"I don't know." He admitted, reluctantly. "I just lost contact with the last of my outposts before they could give me an estimate."  
  
"Well then, what was the most recent report?" Vegeta asked impatiently.  
  
"Well, as of about twenty minutes ago," Yemma began, but then paused as if the words had become lodged in his throat, "the estimate was about forty, maybe fifty thousand."  
  
"F-f-fifty thousand?" Krillin stammered.  
  
"What, is there an echo in here?" snapped Yemma. "You heard me."  
  
"So, what do you intend to do about this?" Vegeta said.  
  
"There's nothing I *can* do." Yemma replied, clearly as dissatisfied with his own response as Vegeta. "I don't have the demon-power to deal with this. Hell, I don't even know what those guys are up to."  
  
"Obviously they wish to prevent us from using the seal." Vegeta asserted.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!" Yemma scoffed. "This whole operation was top secret. How could they possibly know about the new seal?"  
  
Krillin began to rub the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.  
  
"Well, uh. . . actually. . ."  
  
King Yemma's massive, soul-piercing eyes shot across to Krillin, causing the nerve-racked fighter to flinch beneath their unsettling glare.  
  
"Well actually what?" he rumbled.  
  
"Well, we kinda had some company when we were talking last." Krillin explained gingerly.  
  
Yemma's eyes widened.  
  
"Company? What company?" He boomed.  
  
Vegeta growled, and lowered his head like an angered predator. Raising a single clenched fist, he snarled,  
  
"Zarbon and Dodoria."  
  
Yemma retreated to the recesses of his memory for a moment.  
  
"Zarbon and Dod. . . you mean the pretty boy and the tubby pink guy that used to work for Frieza?"  
  
Vegeta broke eye contact with Yemma. The sound of that last name clearly caused him great displeasure.  
  
"What were they doing skulking around here?" Yemma asked, and then his angry gaze fell upon Krillin once more.  
  
This was the part that the fighter had feared.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me they were here?" Yemma constrained. "I thought you Z people did that power level sensing thingy!"  
  
"Well, we do," Krillin began, "it's just that, um, well, its just that those two had been down *there* for a while, and they kinda, sorta. . . learned how to hide there energy signals."  
  
Krillin cringed in readiness for a dressing down.  
  
"Oh, great!" Yemma roared. "They must've sent all that information straight down the bad guy grape vine. Damn it! This is all I need!"  
  
"But how could they have spread the information so quickly?" Krillin enquired.  
  
"You'd be surprised how quickly news can travel around here." Yemma replied. "Two bad guys tell two more. Those two each tell another two, and so forth. Before you know it, you've got yourself an army of ultimate evil and the headaches to boot."  
  
Krillin shuddered at those words.  
  
"I don't like the sound of that." he muttered to himself.  
  
"How this army was formed is immaterial." Vegeta interjected. "All that matters now is that we destroy it. Nothing must prevent us from achieving our objective."  
  
"Easier said than done, Mr Enthusiasm!" Yemma sniped. "And what is it with you anyway? I mean, why is it that you're always hanging around here? Shouldn't you be out there causing mayhem with your evil buddies?"  
  
"My motives are none of your concern." Vegeta retorted.  
  
"The hell they aren't!" The ogre barked. "You're lucky I let you get this far. If you want to have any further part in this operation, you're gonna have to tell me what you want out of it."  
  
"I will do no such thing!" roared Vegeta.  
  
"Then you can go find some other house to haunt! Having you around is a liability!"  
  
Vegeta emitted an angry grunt, apparently about to force himself to do something that went against his nature.  
  
"You must believe that my motives are true." He explained in as even a tone as he could muster. "But more than that I cannot and will not say."  
  
"Well I'm sorry," Yemma replied, "but that's just not good enough. So, thanks for your help, and don't let the door hit you on the way out. . . or vice versa."  
  
Vegeta gritted his teeth. Krillin knew that, as angry as the Saiyan appeared, he would not argue. In fact, Vegeta was already turning reluctantly for the door.  
  
Krillin couldn't allow this to happen. Whether Yemma liked it or not, he needed every strong fighter he could get if he was to resolve this crisis. Whether it was this reasoning that dictated his actions, or a sense of pity for King Vegeta, Krillin was unsure. But either way, he had to act.  
  
"King Yemma." he said loudly.  
  
Both kings turned to the fighter. Suddenly, the attention didn't feel quite so welcome.  
  
"What?" the ogre replied indelicately.  
  
Krillin paused for a moment. He could back down right now, and save himself from further angering the volatile Yemma. However, a brief glance at Vegeta was enough to remind him of just why he had chosen to entrust the seal to the Saiyan in the first place. Krillin believed that Vegeta would sacrifice his own soul for that of his son. He had to, for that was one of the few kernels of hope that remained for the fighter in these desperate times.  
  
Turning back to Yemma, Krillin spoke.  
  
"I just wanted to say that, uh. . . for what it's worth, um. . . I trust him."  
  
"Oh really?" Yemma replied. "Well then, would *you* mind telling me why?"  
  
Krillin gritted his teeth. Looking to Vegeta, he found the Saiyan to be staring out through the open doors. Though his expression was one of proud defiance, the lack of eye contact was evidence enough that he realised that he was, in this matter at least, at Krillin's mercy.  
  
Krillin swallowed hard, and returned his gaze to Yemma.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I can't tell you, King Yemma."  
  
Yemma flung his great hands skywards.  
  
"Why?" he roared. "Why is it that you people have to waste my time? Is it some kind weird hobby?"  
  
"Listen, King Yemma." Krillin replied. "King Vegeta did tell me why he was helping us, and I believe him. Just trust me when I say it's not the sort of thing a guy jokes about. Now I know it sounds dum, but it's really important that you trust King Vegeta too. After all, you need all the help you can get."  
  
Yemma glared down fiercely upon Krillin. However, his ferocious expression began to fade steadily, leaving one of resignation in its place. He then raised his hand and placed over his eyes.  
  
"Why me?" Yemma rumbled under his breath.  
  
He then dropped his hand to the desk.  
  
"Okay," he conceded, "he can stay, but only because things are getting so bad. On any other day, you'd be out of here so fast your *momma's* feet wouldn't touch the ground."  
  
Krillin turned to Vegeta, upon hearing the Saiyan growling in annoyance at Yemma's comments. However, to Krillin's relief, it seemed that he was willing to be diplomatic in order to retain his place on 'the team'. As such, he did not reply.  
  
"Alright," Yemma began, clasping his hands across his desk, "the first thing we have to do before we can deploy the seal is break up this gathering."  
  
"Simple." Vegeta stated. "In order to disperse this army, we must first raise a army of our own."  
  
"Oh yeah, an army!" Yemma agreed facetiously. "Now why didn't I think of that? Now let me see, I'm sure have one around here somewhere."  
  
Yemma then began to rummage mockingly through his desk drawers.  
  
Krillin ventured into the conversation.  
  
"Actually, King Yemma, I have. . ."  
  
"Do not make light of me!" Vegeta complained, cutting Krillin off mid- sentence.  
  
Krillin sighed. Again it seemed it would be difficult to squeeze a word in edgeways between these two colossal egos.  
  
"Look," Yemma said, "I can't just pull an army out of thin air. Stuff like that takes time."  
  
"Time is a commodity we simply do not have." Asserted Vegeta. "Surely you must have some fighters, those which were accepted into paradise when they fell."  
  
Yemma raised a hand to his chin and began to rub it thoughtfully. This was Krillin's chance.  
  
"I know where there are some fighters!" he blabbed, thrusting a hand into the air.  
  
The eyes of both kings fell upon him.  
  
Why do I keep doing this; Krillin thought to himself, forlornly.  
  
Lowering his hand, and allowing his shoulders to sink submissively, Krillin aired his suggestion.  
  
"I was just thinking, maybe you could call King Kai. I think a couple of my friends from Earth might still be there, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping out."  
  
There was a moment of silence as the kings digested the information.  
  
"These allies of yours," Vegeta said, "they are powerful warriors?"  
  
"Oh, uh, yeah they sure are." Krillin replied. "Earth's finest."  
  
"Excellent." Said Vegeta, and then turning to King Yemma, continued, "You must contact this King Kai immediately."  
  
"Hey buddy," Yemma thundered, "I'm the one who gives the orders around here, not you."  
  
Krillin was becoming weary of this clashing of egos.  
  
"Please King Yemma," he said, before Vegeta could retort, "we can't waste anymore time."  
  
Yemma glared down at Krillin. However, his stare seemed to lack the venom of earlier on. His eyes then moved reluctantly across to the telephone atop his desk.  
  
"Alright then," he conceded, "I'll call him. But I'm not going to like it."  
  
Krillin had never met King Kai in person. What he knew of him extended only to the wonders his training had done for Goku, increasing the Saiyan's strength twenty fold and arming him with a battery of potent techniques. Krillin felt sure that if this King Kai could not only make good fighters great, but also evoke such hesitance in one as formidable as King Yemma, then he must truly be a mighty and fearful individual.  
  
Yemma lifted the receiver and began to dial the number gingerly, his eyes flicking back and forth between the phone and Krillin as he did. He then raised the receiver to his ear and listened with a nervous expression.  
  
"Oh, uh, hi King Kai." He said suddenly. "It's King Yemma here. . . Yeah, we're having some problems down here and. . . oh, you heard? Yeah, well we're a little short handed and I was just wondering if we could borrow a couple of your guys for. . . No. . . but. . ."  
  
Yemma sighed deeply.  
  
"No, King Kai. I haven't heard the one about the nun and the manatee. . . uh huh. . . yeah. . ." Yemma then emitted an unenthusiastic laugh. "Yes, that's uh, that's a good one, King Kai. So, um, when can we expect your boys? Uh huh . . . right. . . yes. . . Okay, good. Thanks for your help, King Kai. Bye now."  
  
Yemma hung up, and gave loud a sigh of relief.  
  
"So, what did he say?" Vegeta asked impatiently.  
  
"He says he's sending three fighters by the names of Yamcha, Chiaotzu and Tien." The ogre informed him. "They'll be here within the hour."  
  
"Great!" Krillin exclaimed. "Man, I can't wait to see how much those guys have improved with King Kai."  
  
"Yeah, great." Yemma said, drearily. "Two down, forty nine thousand nine hundred and ninety eight to go."  
  
"There must be somewhere else from which we can summon an army." Vegeta speculated. "Or do you condemn all those who chose the way of the warrior?"  
  
"Well I'm sorry to burst your bubble," Yemma replied, "but the sad fact is that most people who have that kind of strength use it to do bad things."  
  
The demon then resumed his deep thought.  
  
"Well, I guess there is one place I could call." He mused. "But I'm really only supposed to do it in an emergency."  
  
"So tell me King Yemma," Vegeta said, thrusting a hand out in the direction of the open door, "does this not qualify as an emergency?"  
  
For once, Krillin sympathised with the Saiyan's cantankerous outburst.  
  
"Alright, alright." Yemma conceded. "I'll make the call. But I'll have to do it on the special line out back. And I still can't guarantee that they'll be able to send enough fighters."  
  
"If that is our only option, then that is what we must do." Said Vegeta.  
  
The sound of Vegeta's voice caused an idea to occur to Krillin.  
  
"Hey, uh, King Vegeta?" he said nervously. "You're the king of all Saiyans, right?"  
  
Vegeta's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What of it?"  
  
"Well," Krillin said, pausing a moment to choose his words carefully, "couldn't you just ask your people to help us? I mean, I know they probably don't want to go back downstairs, but I'm sure if you. . ."  
  
"No!" Vegeta barked, and then looked away from Krillin. "That is out of the question."  
  
Krillin stood slacked jawed in surprise. Though he had expected some scepticism, he hadn't anticipated such a strong objection. Summoning up the courage to speak again, he said,  
  
"But, I just. . ."  
  
"Absolutely not." Vegeta reiterated. "I will not draw my people into this."  
  
"Well there a part of this, whether you like it or not." Yemma stepped in, lending unexpected but much needed support to Krillin's argument. "I think the kid may be onto something with this. Since the seal broke we've been up to our eyeballs in Saiyans. If we could get even a few of them on our side, bang, instant army."  
  
"No, I can. . . I will not." Vegeta said.  
  
"Well, why not?" Yemma asked. "You're the one who was about to bust a gut over making an army."  
  
"What makes you so sure that my race would agree to fight for you?" Vegeta asked in return.  
  
"Well, duh." Yemma replied. "You're their king. If you tell 'em to fight on our side, then that's what they'll do."  
  
Vegeta gritted his teeth. As Krillin looked at him, he could see that the Saiyan had something that he desperately wished to say, but was being held back, most probably by that eponymous Saiyan pride he had heard so much about.  
  
After a short time, Vegeta relaxed his tormented expression.  
  
"Very well, then." He said. "I shall seek out my people. But I cannot guarantee their cooperation."  
  
"Okay, good." Said King Yemma. "You should probably get started now. There's no time to waste."  
  
"How will I be able to find them?" Vegeta asked.  
  
"Same way you find everything around here." Yemma replied. "Just think about them as you go. You shouldn't have a problem as long as they're not on the move. Oh yeah, and try to think of one individual in particular, otherwise goodness knows where you'll end up. You have anyone in mind?"  
  
The room fell quiet for a moment as Vegeta pondered reluctantly the question he had been asked. After a few short moments, he replied,  
  
"Yes, I do. My most loyal and trusted warrior."  
  
"Good, good." Yemma said, standing up from his desk. "Now you'd better get going. I've got a call to make."  
  
With that, Vegeta swung around in his typically dramatic manner and swept towards the door.  
  
"Oh, and you better go and keep an eye on him." Yemma added, turning to Krillin. "Just because you trust him doesn't mean I have to."  
  
"King Yemma," replied Krillin, "I'm sure Vegeta doesn't need me to. . ."  
  
"Come, Krillin!" came a Vegeta's harsh voice from the doorway. "We cannot waste time."  
  
Krillin swung around in surprise. Indeed, Vegeta was standing, half turned towards the outside world, looking straight back at him. He really did want the fighter to accompany him. Or at the very least, he did not object. It was remarkable enough that Vegeta had even called him by name, but to be openly invited to accompany him on a journey to find his people was little short of a coup. It seemed that once one had earned the respect of a Saiyan, one had that respect for life.  
  
"I don't have all eternity!" Vegeta snapped.  
  
Okay, so maybe King Vegeta still didn't quite view Krillin as an equal, but it was a good start.  
  
Vegeta turned and took several paces out of the door. Then, in a brilliant blue flash of ki energy, he took to the muggy skies.  
  
As Krillin ran out into the open and prepared to give chase, he gave thought to Yemma's request. His gut told him that he could trust King Vegeta and his motives, but still, he couldn't help but wonder just what King Yemma thought he would be able to do should the Saiyans turn on him.  
  
Krillin hoped he would not have to find out. 


	17. Counterweight

The journey had been long, and even longer in Krillin's perception of time. As he and Vegeta had been travelling, his mind could not help but dwell on their latest objective: to find the Saiyans.  
  
With the exception of Goku and his son, Krillin's experiences with Saiyan's had been less than stellar. It seemed that those two were unique among their race; gentle creatures among a species of ruthless warriors. It was small wonder that the more he dwelled on it, the less Krillin was looking forward to meeting with yet more members of this largely deceased race.  
  
Perhaps Krillin would have taken some small comfort for having King Vegeta at his side, were it not for the fact that Vegeta himself seemed unsettled by the whole affair. As the two had spent more and more time in each other's presence, Krillin had to some extent become able to gauge the emotions of the oft-detached Saiyan. What his newfound sense told him now, was that Vegeta was anxious, even nervous. He seemed to be flying more slowly than before, and though he still maintained his usual lofty position above Krillin, he did not seem so keen to stay ahead of him. If Krillin didn't know better, he would say that Vegeta was scared. Not that he would actually *say* that. He dared not guess the consequences of such a folly.  
  
But still, the question remained of why Vegeta was so agitated by the idea of tracking down his own brethren. Even at Yemma's office, he had not seemed enamoured with the idea. Only when persuaded that it was the only way to ensure his continued participation in King Yemma's *operation* did he succumb to pressure and agree to track down the Saiyans.  
  
A dimension in chaos, its skies darkened, its winds heavy with tortured lamentation, and its pastures infested by the most corrupt of souls; none of this had been enough to so much as ruffle Vegeta. But for whatever reason, the thought of contacting his subjects had left him deeply troubled.  
  
Just as Krillin's thoughts were returning to his own anxieties, Vegeta began to slow down. At first Krillin slowed down with him, believing that he was simply preparing to alter his low course to avoid an upcoming rise. However, he was soon forced to overtake as the Saiyan slowed to a stop, and descended to the ground.  
  
Cautiously, Krillin too came to a halt, then turned to face Vegeta and dropped to the ground. At first, he wondered what could have prompted Vegeta to stop. It was unlikely that the Saiyan had sensed the presence of a strong power signal, since if such a thing were possible amid the maelstrom of ki energy then surely he would have sensed it too.  
  
Then, the answer occurred to Krillin. Vegeta had found what he was looking for.  
  
As the king began to pace purposefully towards him, Krillin realised that Vegeta's elevated position must have allowed his to see just clear of the rise. This, he surmised, must be where the Saiyan he had sought was located.  
  
Krillin watched Vegeta pass him by, and then began to ford through the long grass in the Saiyan's wake. The fighter was unsure as to whether following was well advised, but for some reason he felt the urge to see the Saiyans for himself, and moreover, find out why Vegeta was so unsettled by the prospect of confronting them.  
  
Gradually the two mounted the slope. It seemed that with every yard he gained, Vegeta's footsteps became increasingly tentative. Eventually he did crest the rise, then stopped and stared out across whatever vista lay beyond.  
  
Krillin stopped a short distance behind Vegeta, and from his less lofty vantage point, peered over the hill and down to the scene below. What he saw caused him to flinch away, and then cautiously crane his neck like a prey animal having spotted an oblivious predator.  
  
At the foot of the hill lay what appeared to be a small encampment. Saiyans, a dozen or so per group, were clustered around a number of small fires. Each warrior bore a shock of dark hair that waved in the tepid wind, appearing flame-like as it caught the sombre orange glow of the modest pyres. All were clad in the familiar brown and white breastplate, white gloves and boots, and were squatted in circles around each fire, the hum of their numerous conversations blending seamlessly with the cackling laughter of burning wood.  
  
Realising that they had yet to be noticed, Krillin moved slowly to the crest of the hill. Making a conscious effort to walk, breath, and even think quietly, he began to scan across the scene below. But as he did so, a softly spoken Vegeta broke his concentration.  
  
"My people." He said.  
  
Krillin looked up, but held his response as he realised that he was not being addressed.  
  
"They are even more magnificent than I remember." Vegeta continued.  
  
Krillin looked back at the Saiyans below. Indeed, he could see how such a race could be deemed magnificent; every one a born warrior, crafted by nature as a flawless engine of killing.  
  
Suddenly, Krillin caught his breath. One of the warriors below was terrifyingly familiar. Tall and burly, even by Saiyan standards, this fighter bore all the hallmarks of this great warrior race save one. Where all the others had a full head of hair, this one had none at all. Even at this distance, the warrior was unmistakeable. It was Nappa, the ruthless warrior that had been at Prince Vegeta's side when he had first come to Earth.  
  
The sight of this fighter evoked a memory in Krillin. He recalled something Nappa had said back on Earth, during his fight with Goku. The behemoth had claimed to be the commander in chief of the Saiyan army. If this were truly the case, then perhaps Nappa was the trusted warrior of whom King Vegeta had spoken in Yemma's office.  
  
Krillin was not given time to ponder this point however, as he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw that Vegeta had begun to back away.  
  
"I cannot." The Saiyan uttered, still looking down to his former subjects.  
  
Vegeta then turned around fully, and began to walk away slowly.  
  
"King Vegeta." Krillin said softly. "Aren't you going to. . ."  
  
"I cannot." Vegeta repeated, this time more firmly. "My leadership has cost them too much already. I cannot ask them to relinquish their souls as well."  
  
"But what about. . ."  
  
"No!"  
  
Vegeta then began to levitate slowly from the ground. Krillin felt he had to do something, but he was unsure of just what that was. He could not force Vegeta to solicit his people's help, and doing it himself was entirely out of the question. Somehow he had to find a way to coerce Vegeta into confronting the Saiyans. Reluctantly, he came to the only conclusion he could.  
  
Boy, Krillin. It's a good thing you're already dead; he thought to himself.  
  
Then, turning to face the Saiyans, he began to accumulate a sizeable quantity of ki energy in his right hand.  
  
"Here goes nothing." He sighed.  
  
Then, sucking in a deep breath of the foul tasting atmosphere, he hurled the incandescent ball from the hill. Fizzing from his hand, the ball raced through the air above the encampment of Saiyans, projecting its ice blue glow against both the green ground below and the mud-brown skies above.  
  
Krillin watched anxiously. Needless to say, he was having second, third and fourth thoughts about this course of action. However, there was no time to back out as, within a few short seconds, the ki ball reached a zenith in its trajectory, and then plunged earthwards. It struck the ground in an instant, right in the very midst of the Saiyan encampment. The ball exploded on impact, producing a deafening crash and causing the ground to belch seared grass and earth.  
  
Though this attack bore no real power, the pyrotechnic display that had resulted had had the desired effect. The eyes of each and every one of the Saiyans at the foot of the hill were now trained on the impact site.  
  
Krillin stared down in satisfaction for a moment at the sight of a job well done. However, satisfaction soon turned to panic as all eyes began to turn to the source of the attack. Dithering for an instant, Krillin looked about feverishly for a hiding place. Then, looking down, he allowed himself to drop into concealment amid the tall grass.  
  
"Don't panic, Krillin. M-maybe they didn't see you." He deluded himself softly.  
  
And as if Krillin wasn't already worried enough, a fearful sound began to rise above the confused barking of the Saiyan warriors. The sound, a low pitch growl, was emanating from directly overhead. Gingerly, Krillin peered up from between the anxiously twitching blades of grass.  
  
There he saw Vegeta, hovering ominously and baring his teeth in a frightful expression of building rage. He apparently had not appreciated Krillin's rather obvious attempts to manipulate the situation.  
  
The fighter could feel Vegeta's power building, becoming ever more evident amid the otherwise inseparable quagmire of energies. However, just as Krillin felt sure he would endure the King's wrath, a single, Saiyan voice grabbed Vegeta's attention.  
  
"It's King Vegeta." The voice asserted above the hum of bemused conversation.  
  
Vegeta was now looking out across the meadow below, and thankfully away from Krillin. Though his face as always bore a stern cast, Krillin's growing ability to spot the subtle gradations in the Saiyan's expressions told him that the King was experiencing some concern, even anxiety.  
  
Mortally scared, but deathly curious, Krillin raised himself slightly and peered above the level of the grass. From here he could just about see the Saiyans, all standing and gradually turning to face Vegeta. Each one was staring upwards with a look of surprise, their soft mutterings drifting to Krillin on the tepid breeze.  
  
Then the fighter's heart sank. The hulking Nappa was beginning to rise from the ground. Slowly he climbed until he reached a level equal to that of his King, and then he began to steadily coast towards him. As the imposing warrior did so, Krillin began to sink back into his grassy hide, his eyes trained upon Nappa all the time.  
  
Finally, Nappa reached Vegeta, and stopped a couple of meters before him. There he remained for some seconds, meeting the King's gaze. The tension was tangible. Krillin remembered how Nappa had met his rather unceremonious end at the hands of the younger Vegeta, and was now beginning wonder how he would react at the sight of the prince's older namesake.  
  
Each Saiyan stared unflinchingly into the eyes of the other for an age before finally, Nappa made the first motion. Raising his right forearm across his chest, he lowered his head solemnly and uttered with an air of quiet respect,  
  
"Lord Vegeta."  
  
Superficially, Vegeta appeared unmoved. However, for Krillin the relief that radiated from him was quite evident.  
  
"General Nappa." Vegeta replied sternly. "In future you will address me only when you are addressed."  
  
"My apologies, Lord Vegeta." Nappa replied keeping his head lowered submissively. "But it's just that, it's been so long and. . ."  
  
The Saiyan paused. It appeared that something nearby had caught his eye. Krillin glanced briefly from side-to-side searching for what it could have attracted his attention. However, he found nothing in the immediate vicinity, save grass and himself.  
  
Krillin swallowed hard. It was he that Nappa had spotted.  
  
"Hey, you!" he called, apparently forgetting that he was standing before his king. "Get out here!"  
  
Krillin looked about once more. Whether he did so to buy himself some time, or in the vain hope that Nappa really was addressing someone else, even Krillin could not say. Either way, he was the only one to whom the Saiyan could possibly have been speaking. His only hope now was that the brute had a short memory.  
  
Standing reluctantly from his hiding place, Krillin pointed gingerly to himself.  
  
"Who, m-m-me?" He stammered.  
  
"Yeah, you!" Nappa roared. "What's the big idea spying on. . . hey. Hey, I know you."  
  
It was as Krillin had feared. His distinctive face had not escaped Nappa's recollection. It was unlikely that the fighter would look back nostalgically on their time together either, since the last time they met had been on the day of his humiliating demise.  
  
*Oh man. Why can't anyone around here just forget who I am?* Krillin thought.  
  
Nappa turned his whole body to face Krillin, and adopted an aggressive stance.  
  
"You're that guy from Earth!" he stated. "You've got some nerve coming here!"  
  
Krillin began to detect a change in the Saiyan's energy. It was climbing above the background ki, and was doing so at some pace. In moments, the Nappa was engulfed in a sheath of blazing power as his energy level soared. And soar it did. It seemed that Zarbon and Dodoria were not the only ones who had benefited from their stints in the underworld, for Nappa's power level had already significantly surpassed the level it had reached upon his trip to Earth.  
  
Krillin took on a defensive poise. But it was a token gesture. Already he could tell he would be little match for the enraged Saiyan.  
  
"Nappa!" Came Vegeta's stern voice. "Stand Down!"  
  
Krillin was only partially aware of Vegeta's words, and might have been more surprised by the Saiyan's stance had he not had more pressing concerns. However, his attention was held completely by Nappa, who now seemed near ready for an attack.  
  
With a mighty roar, Nappa flung back his right hand.  
  
"I said stand down!"  
  
There was a flash of light. Krillin winced in its momentary brilliance, and then ducked quickly as the limp body of a stricken Nappa cruised overhead. A moment later the Saiyan struck ground with a resounding thud, ploughing a deep rut in the soft earth before finally coming to rest.  
  
Startled, Krillin stood upright and peered across at Nappa as he heaved himself slowly from the ground. The giant warrior appeared shaken - as well he might - as he rose, rubbing his bare head as he did so. However, as he peered up at the glaring King Vegeta, his gaze seemed to carry little anger. In fact, his look seemed almost apologetic.  
  
"It would seem you have grown undisciplined in my absence, General Nappa." Vegeta commented. "There was a time you would have known better than to act without my consent."  
  
"My apologies, Lord Vegeta." Nappa replied. "But the presence of this Earthman was. . . unexpected."  
  
Nappa shot a hair-curling glare at Krillin, who flinched in spite of his lack of hair.  
  
"The presence of this 'Earthman' is of no consequence." Vegeta said. "You need only concern yourself with my presence."  
  
Krillin did not take offence at this. Indeed, after his transgression of moments earlier, he was only too grateful that Vegeta would bother to spare him from a sound thrashing. Perhaps the Saiyan now understood his action as being the favour it had been intended to be.  
  
Nappa glided through the air and pulled up at his King's left, being sure to remain at a submissively lower altitude as he did.  
  
"General Nappa," said Vegeta. "I would address the men."  
  
"Yes, my lord." Nappa replied, and then turned to look out across the still gawking horde of Saiyan's.  
  
"Listen up, insects!" he roared, causing Krillin to cringe at the din. "Your king will speak now!"  
  
With that brief introduction, Nappa moved aside allowing Vegeta to slowly glide forwards. Steadily, King Vegeta moved off the crest of the hill, but lost no altitude in doing so. Then, stopping as the foot of the hill passed beneath him, he surveyed the rabble that lay before him. This inspection went on for some time, with Vegeta's head not once turning downwards to face his men.  
  
Suddenly, Krillin noticed something. Though he wasn't certain, what with his angle being so poor, he saw what seemed to be the slightest of smiles dart across the monarch's face. Fleeting and elusive as the tepid winds that combed the land, it did not linger, but Krillin recognised it nonetheless. It was the smile of a man who had finally returned home.  
  
Vegeta drew breath, and spoke.  
  
"My warriors. My people. My fellows. I come before you as your King, the rightful ruler of all Saiyans, and the last of our kind to bare that title. Many of you will know me, and many will know only my lineage. Perhaps, there are even those of you whose existence predates all of this. But this is immaterial. All you need know is that I am the king of all Saiyans, and that my word is law."  
  
Vegeta paused. There followed a moment of apparent introspective, and then he addressed his people once again.  
  
"This, however, does not make my word right."  
  
This startling admission prompted a wave of surprised utterances to sweep across the scene below. Indeed, had Krillin not been alone atop his hill, he too would have been muttering to his associates.  
  
"Hear me!" Vegeta bellowed.  
  
Silence fell.  
  
"For me to come before you and claim my rule was without error would be a falsehood unseemly of my status. Indeed, my reign, and that of our race, ended with an unjustifiable misjudgement. One that led to my demise, and that of out great race."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"But I do not come here to ask forgiveness, nor to demand it of you. The mistakes we make in life are etched in the stone of time, and no hollow words of forgiveness can erase them. No. What I have come for is to secure the one thing that even I as your king, cannot order you to relinquish, the one thing that is yours and yours alone. I ask you to pledge to me. . . your souls."  
  
Even from his distant vantage point, Krillin could resolve the confused expressions lining the faces of the leading Saiyans.  
  
After a moment's reflection, Vegeta elaborated.  
  
"I ask you to fight with me once more. I ask you to aid me in returning this realm to its intended state. I ask you to once again, condemn yourselves."  
  
A storm of confused exclamations and bemused muttering swept across the crowd as the Saiyans realised that they were being asked to surrender their newfound freedom. This did not come as any surprise to Krillin, who had doubted whether such a brutal race could be persuaded to make such a sacrifice to those they would have considered little more than prey in life. But still, the fighter maintained faith in Vegeta, for surely no one man could rise to the head of such a race without himself possessing extraordinary powers of persuasion, and a mean streak that outstretched the galaxy his species had prowled.  
  
Vegeta remained idle for a time, allowing his people to air their disbelief. Then, in a sudden surge of power, the air around the king was ignited in a swathe of blue flame. Flinging back both fists and head, Vegeta cried,  
  
"Hear me!"  
  
Instant silence.  
  
Wow. He *is* good; Krillin thought, as he beheld with some trepidation the fearsome site of an enraged Vegeta.  
  
Slowly, Vegeta's ki subsided, and he looked down upon his charges once more.  
  
"I cannot command your souls, but I can command your ear." He informed them. "My reasons for this request must be heard."  
  
The king paused, and looked over the heads of the Saiyans and out across the unending meadows that reached away forever. Before he began his explanation, Vegeta made one, short, soft utterance. So quiet was it that Krillin was unsure as to whether the Saiyans below could have heard.  
  
"For all things, a purpose."  
  
Vegeta then cast his gaze down upon the waiting throng.  
  
"For years I wandered. Exactly how many, I do not know. Through darkness and strife I drifted, with only my thoughts as a companion. And my thoughts were many. They were of our people, our lives, our deaths, and our history. I strived to find an explanation, for our existence and our condemnation. What was the purpose of it all? The more I thought, the closer I drew to the only conclusion possible; that our purpose, as a race, was destruction. It seemed clear. Our lives, our deaths and our history seemed to be both source and product of destruction. And yet, this could not be. Why would a universe, bent upon its own survival, breed a race for the sole purpose of its destruction? It confused me, vexed me, and damned near drove me to madness. And further, it seemed an injustice that we should be bred for chaos, and then punished for the same; cast in to the pit while those born too weak to inflict suffering were rewarded for their fragility in paradise. It was then, as I contemplated these contrasting worlds, that I realised our true purpose. Balance. Good and evil, strength and weakness, heaven and hell; each is meaningless without the other. Our purpose was to bring balance to the universe; to keep the weak from growing so fat and numerous that it could not support them. We brought the gift of darkness where light would have blinded all."  
  
Krillin was hanging on every word. It was so backwards; Vegeta's justification of his race's deplorable ways. And yet, it made sense.  
  
"Look around you, at the darkened skies and at the deserted wastes. Do you believe that we can truly rest here? Do you believe that this world could now give an eternity more comfortable than that in the underworld? Such thoughts are a delusion. Darkness and suffering will be all our race can know, because it is what we are. In life we worked to build a world where the strong preyed upon the weak, and where darkness permeated all. And in death, that was what we where given. Damnation was not our punishment; it was our reward. Being here, on this plane of light, is a perversion of our purpose. Our presence here has no meaning. But we can change that. We, the strongest of all the great warrior races, can restore the balance that so sorely needs our strong, steadying hand. Only through *our* strength can this world be healed. Only by *our* will, can balance be restored. Now, brothers, sisters, soldiers of every class, I ask you: will you follow me?"  
  
A profound silence fell upon the meadow as the last Vegeta's words rolled away on the warm breeze. The Saiyans, stood below, gazed up in awe at their ruler's eloquent oration. For an eternity, not a sound could be heard, and not even the slightest evidence of a response detected.  
  
Then Nappa, who had been hanging back behind his king, began to drift forwards. Slowly he moved up alongside Vegeta, and then stopped at his right.  
  
Suddenly, the fighter drove his right fist aloft and roared at the very peak of his deafening voice.  
  
"All hail King Vegeta!"  
  
The response was instant. An earth-shattering roar erupted from the Saiyans, filling the air and shaking Other-World to its foundation as they sung discordant praises of their wandering king. All around, Saiyans ignited in a blaze of ki energy, extinguishing the campfires and turning back the very winds themselves. For the first time in decades, the Saiyans were united behind their King, and were prepared for a battle the likes of which eternity had never seen.  
  
King Vegeta had his answer.  
  
As the roar of the crowd swelled, Vegeta too added his baritone cry to the mix, flinging both fists aloft triumphantly as he did. He then lowered both his arms and his voice, and wearing the broad, arrogant smirk of an adulated monarch, he steadily descended into the bosom of his people. The sea of Saiyan bodies parted readily before him, and he was accepted into their midst.  
  
As Krillin watched with satisfaction while Vegeta reacquainted himself with his adoring subjects, his thoughts turned to his own place in this world. His mission was complete. Should he wish, he could easily sit out the rest of this great adventure. The seal was with Yemma, the Saiyans were enlisted, and most likely his fellow deceased Z-fighters were drawing near Yemma's check-in point. All he need do now was to inform Yemma of his success, and simply wait on the outcome of what would doubtless be a singular battle.  
  
Krillin knew he couldn't sit this one out. Not now.  
  
Standing out of the long grass, he looked down upon the scene below. Watching as the bustling crowd of elated warriors consumed King Vegeta, he uttered to himself,  
  
"I think he can take it from here."  
  
Then, turning from this scene Krillin leapt from the ground and took flight to the horizon where King Yemma, the seal, and the greatest battle he might ever know awaited him. 


	18. Old Allies

Krillin dropped to the ground, and trotted up to Yemma's door. As before the doors were closed as far as their crooked hinges would allow. This time, though, Krillin was unfazed by entering due to a combination of past experience and a job well done. He was particularly looking forward to giving King Yemma a blow-by-blow account of his success with the Siayans.  
  
Stepping up to the door, he pushed the right one aside and entered the office.  
  
"Hey, King Yemma." He called. "I'm ba."  
  
However, he froze with surprise before he could cross the threshold, as the backs of three familiar bodies confronted him.  
  
"Ah, Krillin." Yemma greeted him. "There are some people here I think you might recognise."  
  
With that, all three individuals turned to face Krillin.  
  
"Hey there, Krillin." Grinned Yamcha. "Long time, no see."  
  
"It's good to see you again." Tien added, a beaming chiaotzu floating at his side.  
  
Krillin did not reply. He just stood, dumfounded at the sight of his fallen comrades.  
  
"What's the matter, Krillin?" said Yamcha. "No greeting for old friends."  
  
With that, Krillin broke his silence and ran up to meet his friends.  
  
"Wow!" he enthused. "I don't believe it! It's so great to see you guys again."  
  
The little fighter was grinning broadly, yet could still feel a slight tear welling up in his right eye. It was hard to forget the circumstances under which he had seen them last.  
  
"How have you guys been?" he continued. "I heard you've been training with King Kai."  
  
"That's true." Said Tien. "The training has been most intensive."  
  
"You can say that again." Chiaotzu agreed.  
  
"Yeah, but it's been worth it." Said Yamcha, flexing his right bicep. "I've never felt better."  
  
"I can tell." Krillin replied.  
  
And indeed he could. At these close quarters, the improvement in his friends' fighting powers was quite evident.  
  
Suddenly, there came the intrusive sound of someone deliberately clearing their throat.  
  
"Ahem!"  
  
Krillin turned to the source of the sound. Stood at one end of the row of fighters was a peculiar looking little creature. Rotund and squat, its blue amphibian-like face glared angrily at him from behind a pair of round, darkened lenses.  
  
"Erm, aren't we forgetting someone?" It said, its two narrow antennae twitching in annoyance.  
  
"Oh, right." Said Yamcha, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Sorry about that. Krillin, allow me to introduce the great King Kai."  
  
"Wha?!" Krillin exclaimed, before he could stop himself.  
  
This strange creature was the great King Kai; one of the mightiest warrior in Other-World?  
  
"That's right." King Kai grinned. "It is I, the great King Kai."  
  
The king paused for a moment.  
  
"Hey, I'm a poet and I didn't know it."  
  
He then placed both hands over his mouth began to titter to himself inanely.  
  
"You're King Kai?" Krillin asked, after having composed himself.  
  
"That's right, kiddo. Well, I'm North Kai to be more precise, but I prefer King Kai anyway."  
  
Then, apparently noticing the look of surprise plastered across Krillin's face, he asked,  
  
"What's the matter? You never seen a Kai before?"  
  
"Yes. I mean no." Krillin floundered. "Well, it's just that. . ."  
  
"Oh, I get it." King Kai smirked. "You didn't expect me to be this good looking, did you?"  
  
Krillin thought about it for a moment, before replying,  
  
"Err, you got me."  
  
"Yes." King Kai said. "Happens all the time."  
  
"Are you people finished down there?" Yemma boomed. "In case you've forgotten, we've got more important things to discuss."  
  
King Kai looked up at his counterpart, apparently unfazed by the disparity in size.  
  
"Oh quit being such a worrywart, Yemma." He said. "The bad guys aren't going anywhere."  
  
"Yeah, that's the problem." Yemma retorted.  
  
King Kai scowled.  
  
"Oh, fine then." He complained. "But I think we've discussed everything there is to discuss."  
  
Krillin felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Tien's face peering at him with a more serious cast than before.  
  
"King Yemma has briefed us on what's been happening." He informed Krillin. "From the sound of it, things have become quite serious."  
  
"Yeah, you could say that." Krillin sighed.  
  
"It must be serious if we're asking the Saiyans for help." Yamcha growled.  
  
The disdain that all three of Krillin's fellows had for the warrior race was evident on each of their faces, even that of the usually temperate Tien. But it was not without warrant. All three could attribute their demises to the Saiyans: two of them to one in particular. It was for this reason Krillin thought better of discussing the particulars of his most recent mission.  
  
"That's what I wanted to discuss." Yemma stepped in. "How did it go with the Saiyans?"  
  
"Pretty good, I think." Krillin replied. "From what I heard it looks like they'll be fighting on our side."  
  
"Excellent." Said King Yemma. "Then preparations are complete."  
  
"Woah." Yamcha gaped. "You mean you managed to persuade the Saiyans to fight on our side?"  
  
"Well, I didn't do it on my own." Krillin confessed.  
  
"Well in that case, who helped you?" asked Tien.  
  
Krillin gave a short laugh.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
  
"Try us." Said Yamcha.  
  
Krillin scratched the back of his neck, and began to try and choose a place from which to begin his story.  
  
"Well. . ."  
  
"Say, guys." King Kai interrupted. "Can we do this another time? We should really be going. I hear that the other Kais are bringing some of their fighters. It wouldn't look good if I showed up late."  
  
"Come on, King Kai." said Yamcha. "You never heard of being fashionably late?"  
  
King Kai began to rub his ample chin thoughtfully.  
  
"Hmm. I never thought of that. Perhaps you're right. This *is* an ideal opportunity to score some social points, after all. Hey, maybe the Supreme Kai will be there. . ."  
  
"Er, King Kai." Tien intervened. "I think it would be better if we showed up on time. This battle is pretty important."  
  
"Yes, you're right." King Kai relented. "We can save social climbing for a another time. Oh, remind me to add social studies to our training schedule when we get back. You can never have too many friends."  
  
"Right, King Kai." Smiled Tien.  
  
"Alright!" King Kai exclaimed, thrusting a finger skywards. "C'mon, boys. We've got some bad guy tushy to kick!"  
  
With that, the strange little king began to scuttle towards the open door, his three charges in tow.  
  
Yamcha paused on his way out, and turned to Krillin.  
  
"Hey Krillin," he called. "You coming?"  
  
"Oh yeah!" Krillin said enthusiastically.  
  
Picking up his feet, Krillin made his way to the door after his associates.  
  
"Actually. . ." there came a loud call.  
  
Krillin stopped and looked over his shoulder. There he saw King Yemma, looking distinctly unsettled and sitting awkwardly in his chair.  
  
"I was kind of hoping I could have a word." The ogre stated, looking as if he might have something to say.  
  
"Hey Krillin!" Yamcha called from outside the building. "Are you coming or not?"  
  
"I'll catch up to you guys!" Krillin replied.  
  
"Okay then!" said Yamcha.  
  
"Hey Yamcha!" Came King Kai's voice. "Quit holding up the line!"  
  
"Sorry King Kai!"  
  
With that, Yamcha gave a brief wave and then departed into the murky skies.  
  
Krillin turned, and marched up the front of Yemma's desk.  
  
"What is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked gingerly.  
  
Yemma shifted about uncomfortably in his chair. Pausing for thought, he kept Krillin waiting for a good minute before he finally got up the nerve to speak.  
  
"Er, you might recall me saying some things." He stated, enigmatically.  
  
"Um, yeah." Krillin frowned. "I guess so. What things are you talking about?"  
  
Yemma grimaced. Apparently, he had hoped Krillin would guess what he was getting at without him having to go into detail.  
  
"Oh, just some things, about. . . stuff."  
  
"What stuff?"  
  
Yemma rumbled with frustration.  
  
"I'm just saying, that I may have said some things. . . about certain people not too far from here. Things that. . . well. . . may have been. . . a bit uncalled for."  
  
Krillin realised then to what King Yemma was referring. As he did so, he gave a slight smile.  
  
Yemma went on.  
  
"It's just, I've been under a lot of pressure and. . ."  
  
"Apology accepted." Said Krillin.  
  
There was a pause in the conversation as Yemma assimilated the information. He then cleared his throat loudly.  
  
"Yes, good." Stated the proud ogre. "Okay, now that that's out of the way. . ."  
  
King Yemma stood up and proceeded to amble out from behind his desk.  
  
"As you probably already guessed, we now have a large task force forming to deal with the problem at hand." Yemma informed Krillin.  
  
"You managed to find more fighters?" Krillin asked.  
  
"You wouldn't believe the response I've had since you've been gone." Said Yemma. "Fighters and soldiers have been coming from all over Other-World to volunteer. It's been crazy!"  
  
"Wow, cool!" Krillin said. "I knew everything would be alright in the end."  
  
"Woah, not so fast." Yemma warned. "Our army isn't the only one that's been growing."  
  
Krillin's heart sank.  
  
"You mean there are even more bad guys now?"  
  
"I'm afraid so. Fortunately, the coming battle is only secondary. What we really need is to get the seal up and running again. After that, most of this sorry mess should fix itself."  
  
"But we have to get past the condemned souls to get to the chamber, right?" Krillin hazarded.  
  
"That's right." Yemma said. "We don't have to worry about winning the battle. We just have to get the seal to the entrance of the underworld."  
  
"Sounds like it's gonna be tough." Said Krillin.  
  
Yemma nodded.  
  
"Sure is. That's where you come in."  
  
The ogre opened up his desk draw. Rummaging through its depths, he extracted the seal.  
  
"The way I see it, a small, quick guy like you could get the seal where it has to go a hell of a lot better than a big guy like me."  
  
"I guess so." Krillin said, nervously.  
  
"That's right." Yemma concurred. "So, wha'd'y' say?  
  
The ogre then tossed the glittering seal to Krillin, who caught it firmly in his right hand. Opening is palm the fighter examined the artefact. Then, closing his fingers around it, he gave his answer.  
  
"You can count on me, King Yemma."  
  
With that, he slipped the chain over his head and dropped the seal into the front of his tunic.  
  
"Excellent." Yemma thundered. "Now, I guess it's high time I got ready for battle. Hey. . . you wanna see something cool?"  
  
"Cool?" Krillin said. "Yeah. Uh, okay then."  
  
Yemma grinned broadly, as a child preparing show off his favourite toy, and walked over to the wall at Krillin's left. Stopping, he rubbed his hands together and then made a fist with his right. Raising the fist, rapped slowly but firmly three times on the wall. The sound of the knocking reverberated through the infrastructure of the office, dissipating through its support beams and causing a slight rain of dust to fall from the ceiling. There was a brief silence, and then a low rumbling began to emanate from the wall.  
  
Suddenly, the wall began to rise. Half of that whole side of the room began to retract into the ceiling above, revealing a dark alcove behind. As the hollow was revealed, a wave of dust and musty air tumbled from within, rolling silently across the ground in a thick, brown fog.  
  
Krillin coughed as some of the dust particles invaded his lungs. Yemma did not seem bothered by the dust. He just continued to rub his hands together and grin excitedly as the aforementioned *cool thing* was disclosed.  
  
After a short time there was a dull clunk as the wall was locked in place. It had now disappeared almost entirely into the ceiling, leaving behind a similar, though considerably more grubby wall in its place. Set into this wall was an alcove, of similar dimensions to King Yemma, the interior of which was completely obscured by darkness.  
  
"Oh boy. Oh boy." Yemma muttered to himself.  
  
He then reached into the alcove. He fumbled around in the darkness for a moment before making a soft bark of discovery, which was followed by a loud click. There was an intermittent electrical buzz, and then the whole alcove was bathed in light. What that light revealed was an amazing sight.  
  
Resting within the alcove, draped neatly across a large, wooden manikin, was a mighty suit of armour. It was immense, clearly for use only by King Yemma. The breastplate, fashioned from a jet-black metal, was the size of a small house. Its surface was adorned by a spiralling maze of golden ornamentation, the vast coils and swirls of which funnelled the light to all corners of the object. Great thy-guards hung from the armour's sides, and huge horned shoulder-pads rested across its top. On the floor below was stood a pair of boots, taller than Krillin himself, baring glaives of gold and ebony. And atop the manikin was placed a mighty helmet. It two was cast in shades of black and gold, and was adorned with defensive flaps at the sides, a long, curling neck-plate at the back, and two long, bovine horns on top.  
  
Krillin stepped out in front of the alcove to get a better look. It was then that his eyes fell upon another object. Propped up in the corner was a long, thick mace, comparable in size to a large tree. This too bore the black and gold design of the other items, and seemed to be earning a particularly fond look from King Yemma.  
  
"Krillin," said Yemma. "I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine."  
  
Then, gesturing to the armour, and then to the mace respectively, he said,  
  
"Meet Old Ironside, and The Judge."  
  
Krillin looked up at Yemma. If it seemed strange to the fighter that Yemma would name his combat equipment, then was even stranger for him to see the ogre holding back a tear at the sight of these old friends.  
  
"Oh, it's been a long time." Yemma mused as he removed the helmet from the manikin.  
  
He then wiped away some of the dust with his sleeve, and held it up to the light.  
  
"You know," he began. "The Other-World wasn't always the tight ship you're used to. Once was, the whole place was a lot like it is right now. All kinds of chaos and evil, made it so a guy couldn't tell which way was up. But then we came along. That is, the Kais and me. Boy, we were a force to be reckoned with back then. There was nothing like the sight of me, Old Ironside and The Judge to make the bad guys wet 'emselves and run like little girls."  
  
Yemma lowered the helmet and polished the golden fretwork a little more.  
  
"Those were the days." He sighed. "Still, looks like we're gonna get one more chance to show 'em what we can do."  
  
As Krillin looked at the nostalgic Yemma, he began to realise that in some ways, they were a lot alike. It seemed that, like Krillin, Yemma had begun to tire of his humdrum existence in this world, and longed for a more exciting time. For all these times were dangerous and trying, they *were* exciting, and Krillin felt a little less guilty for feeling that way as he now knew he was not being on his own.  
  
Yemma smiled in satisfaction as he cleaned the last of the centuries of grime from his head ware.  
  
"I think it's time to see if the old ensemble still fits." He mused.  
  
He then placed the helmet under his left arm and proceeded to remove his hat.  
  
Krillin yelped, and jumped back in surprise as he watched Yemma take off his hat. . . horns and all.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Yemma asked of the startled Krillin.  
  
"Th-th-they're not real?" Krillin stammered.  
  
"What, these?" Yemma said, looking down at the horned hat in his hand. "Well, of course they're not real. What do you think I am, some kind of monster?"  
  
"Uh right, of course not." Krillin said. "What was I thinking?"  
  
Krillin sighed. He wouldn't be able to take too many more surprises like that.  
  
What followed was some twenty minutes watching King Yemma trying to manoeuvre his way into his ill-fitting suit of armour. It seemed that his desk job had done little for his waistline since the old days. Grunts of effort and words of frustration were bountiful, and were punctuated by the groan of warping metal. Nonetheless, Yemma was eventually able to get into the armour, but not without using up much energy, which might have been better employed in battle.  
  
"Right." Yemma said, as he picked up his shirt, tie and jacket from the ground. "Ready to go?"  
  
"Ready when you are." Krillin replied.  
  
"Good." Yemma smiled.  
  
He then tossed his clothes onto his desk, and kicked his shoes underneath. Reaching into the alcove once more, he grasped the handle of his mace and brought it into the light. It too was quite dusty from its ages spent in storage. This did not seem to concern Yemma, however.  
  
"Hey, King Yemma." Krillin said. "Aren't you going to clean that?"  
  
"Nope." Yemma replied, and then with a couple of soft swings added. "We'll be knocking the dirt off of it soon enough."  
  
Krillin smiled. That was as good an answer as any.  
  
"Okay, time to go." Yemma said.  
  
He then began to pat around his person.  
  
"Car keys, car keys, car. . . oh yeah. My jacket."  
  
Yemma looked to Krillin.  
  
"Here, hold this." he said.  
  
Before Krillin could decline, the ogre released the handle of the judge and allowed it to fall towards the fighter. With a startled yelp, Krillin dove out of the way just in time to see the great tree-trunk of a weapon plough into the parke floor with an almighty crash.  
  
"Ah ha!" said Yemma as he pulled a large bunch of keys from his jacket. "*Now* we're ready to go."  
  
Reaching down, King Yemma grasped The Judge and pulled it from the cleaved flooring. He then turned and headed for a door in the back wall.  
  
"Time mount my chariot." He said, the feel-good factor of being reunited with his old friends evident in his voice. "I've got a good feeling about this battle. How about you?"  
  
"Yeah." Krillin muttered as he pulled himself from the floor. "Can't wait."  
  
It seemed that the bad guys wouldn't be the only ones Krillin would have to look out for.  
  
Standing upright, Krillin dusted himself off and followed Yemma out of the room, most probably to the courtyard where he had previous seen the ogre's car parked. It would certainly be impressive if the vehicle had survived the pounding it had taken whilst escaping the scene of the breaking seal. In that case it would definitely be a worthy steed upon which to ride into battle, though Krillin doubted that both he and Yemma would fit. Especially now that Yemma had donned full battle gear.  
  
Krillin pushed these thoughts from his mind. Now was the time to focus, for the battle that lay ahead would be of a scale inconceivable to the mortal mind. Mere hours away, was a conflict that would decide the fate of a dimension, and all those bound to a finite existence. One way or another, the end of this saga was drawing near. The thought of this was overwhelming, but there was comfort for Krillin that came in the form of a single, undeniable certainty.  
  
He was ready. 


	19. last

Not a real chapter. This is here to counteract a problem with the chapter counter for this story. Support have been contacted. 


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